■I ■I'- 



il>;K; 



i-«vr :i;iiv: 






H-A- 






.K^' 

M 







i'fe'ii'-'^r.n^r^'"-' '^■'■ 




Class 1EF 1 3 i 
Book » H 5 7 

j 

(Jopiglitl?-. 

C0KKRIGHT DESOSm 



^573 

Elements of Psychology: 

A TEXT-BOOK. 



/by 



DAVID J. HILL, LL.D., 

Pbesidknt op Bucknbll University, and Author op "Hill's Elements op 

Bhetoric and Composition," " Hill's Science op Rhetoric," 
r \\ AND " Hill's Elements op Logic." 



WITH ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 



IAN 18 ^88 
SHELDON & COMPANY, 

NEW YORK AND CHICAGO. 

1888. 



^^>'^. 



\ 



•y 



kA 



PRESIDENT HILL'S TEXT-BOOKS. 



I. 

THE ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC AND COMPOSITION. 

11. 
THE SCIENCE OF RHETORIC. 

III. 
THE ELEMENTS OF LOGIC. 

IV. 
THE ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 



coptrwht 
By Shbldon & Company. 




^i^ J ^i^ ^i^ ^i' 



^4^ 



Although the scientific method has been only recently 
applied to psychological investigation^ it has produced a 
reconstruction of the sciences relating to the nature of 
man. It has not been found possible, however, to abandon 
the special method of self -analysis, or introspection, which 
alone furnishes the particular kind of facts upon which 
Psychology is based, — the phenomena of consciousness. 
By a careful application of this method by many observers, 
there has been accumulated a body of accepted facts 
universally admitted as verifiable. It is this consensus 
alone that renders any science possible. There was no 
science of Astronomy, of Botany, or of Geology, until 
there had been amassed an aggregate of verified and 
accepted facts to which the mind could apply systematic 
arrangement and nomenclature. While, therefore, the 
facts of Psychology are furnished by the individual con- 
sciousness, and in this sense are subjective and personal, 
the general consensus renders them fit for scientific use 
as verified facts and not mere opinions. 

Although Psychology presents itself as a science, like 
every other science, it has its unsolved problems and its 
retinue of theories. It has so lately emerged from the 
purely speculative stage, that the theoretical element still 



iv PREFACE. 

remains conspicuous. The future progress of Psychology 
will determine which of these theories shall become 
dominant. The necessity of an appeal to personal con- 
sciousness both for the facts and their interpretation 
justifies the citation of personal views and statements to 
a greater extent than in other departments of knowledge. 

The text-book now offered to teachers and students has 
grown up in the author's class-room during a period of 
nearly ten years^ and has been gradually adapted to the 
practical needs of those who could devote to the study 
only a single term of about three months. G-reat stress 
has been laid upon the careful definition of words, a pro- 
gressive analysis, and the emphasis of the central truths 
of the science. 

It is intended that the paragraphs printed in the larger 
type should he learned for topical recitation and that 
those printed in the smaller type should be read with 
care without close reproduction in the class-room. 

Tho leading paragraphs have been readily compre- 
hended by all the students who have ever attempted to 
study them. The secondary paragraphs are intended to 
interest the more active minds in acquiring a wider knowl- 
edge of the subject by presenting comments, citations, and 
theories which may lead to reflection and reading. These 
paragraphs are not essential to the continuity of the text 
printed in the larger type. One object in adding them is, 
to introduce to the notice of students the names of 
important thinkers and writers of whom he should have 
some knowledge. These will lead on to still others whose 
works are to be found only in foreign languages, to which 
references have been very rarely made because they would 
be practically useless to the beginner. The dates of the 



PREFACE. V 

birth and death of the writers quoted or referred to have 
been enclosed in parenthetical marks after the first men- 
tion of the name, except in the case of contemporaries, 
when only the date of the birth is given. These dates at 
once answer the question as to when the person lived. 
They may be learned or used only for reference, according 
to the preference of the teacher. ^ The book thus serves 
as an introduction to the history of philosophy as well as 
to philosophy itself. 

Special pains have been taken to apply the principles 
of Psychology to the practical problems of Education, 
in the hope that the value of the book might thus be 
enhanced for those who contemplate teaching and for all 
who are interested in the development of the psychical 
powers. 

It is impossible for a writer on a scientific subject to 
specify all the sources from which his knowledge has 
been derived, but every direct quotation in this book is 
acknowledged by an explicit reference. An examination 
of these references will show that there are few works of 
importance in the English language bearing upon the 
subject to which the author is not indebted. 

BucKNELL Universitt, January 1, 1888. 





ON'TO^NT 



N<" 




OR ANALYSIS. 



INTRODUCTION. 

TAGE 

1. DEFINITION OF PSYCHOLOGY...: 1 

2. THE SPHERE OF PSYCHOLOGY 2 

3. SCIENCES RELATED TO PSYCHOLOGY 2 

4. THE RELATION OF PSYCHOLOGY TO EDUCATION 3 

5. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL METHOD 4 

6. THE VALIDITY OF THE METHOD 5 

7. THE PRIMARY AFFIRMATIONS OF THE SOUL 6 

(1.) The Affirmation of Existence. 
(2.) The Affirmation of Co-existence. 
(3.) The Affirmation of Persistence. 

8. THE THREE ELEMENTAL PHENOMENA OF THE SOUL 7 

(i.) Knowledge. 
(2.) Feeling. 
(3.) Volition. 

9. THE THREE ELEMENTAL POWERS OF THE SOUL 8 

(1.) Intellect. 
(2.) Sensibility. 
(3.) Will. 

10. DIVISION OF PSYCHOLOGY 9 

PART I— INTELLECT. 

.. DEFINITION OF INTELLECT 11 

2. DEFINITION OF KNOWLEDGE 12 



Viii ANALYSIS. 

PAGE 

3. VARIOUS FORMS OF KNOWLEDGE 13 

(i.) Presentative Knowledge. 
(2.) Representative Knowledge. 
(3.) Elaborative Knowledge. 
(4.) Constitutive Knowledge. 

4. DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT 13 

CHAPTER I. 

PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 
TWO FORMS OF PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

SECTION I. 
SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 

1. SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS DEFINED.. 14 

2. HUME'S DENIAL OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 15 

3. MILL ON SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 17 

4. SPENCER'S DENIAL OF IMMEDIATE SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 18 

5. THE CONTINUITY OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 19 

6. TWO FORMS OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 19 

7. ORIGIN OF REFLECTIVE SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 20 

8. NORMAL FORMS OF REFLECTIVE SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 21 

(1.) The Philosophical. 
(2.) The Ethical. 

9. ABNORMAL FORMS OF REFLECTIVE SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 21 

(1.) The Precocious. 

(2.) The Egoistic. 

(3.) The Hypochondriacal. 

10. THE RELATION OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS TO EDUCATION. 23 

SECTION II. 
SENSE-PERCEPTION. 

1. SENSE-PERCEPTION DEFINED 24 

2. THE TWO ELEMENTS IN SENSE-PERCEPTION 25 

.(1.) Perception Proper. 
(2.) Sensation Proper, 



ANALYSIS. IX 

PAGE 

3. THE CONDITIONS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION 26 

(1.) The Nervous Organism. 
(2.) External Excitants. 
(3.) Actual Excitation. 

4. ABNORMAL EXCITATION 30 

5. DEFINITION OF A SENSE AND A SENSE-ORGAN 32 

6. CLASSIFICATION OF THE SENSES 32 

(1.) Muscular Sense. 
(2.) Organic Sense. 
(3.) Special Senses. 

7. THE SPECIAL SENSES 33 

(1.) Touch. 
(2.) Smell. 
(3.) Taste. 
(4.) Hearing. 
(5.) Sight. 

8. THE KNOWLEDGE OBTAINED BY THE SPECIAL SENSES.. 39 

(1.) By Touch. 
(2.) By Smell. 
(3.) By Taste. 
(4.) By Hearing. 
(5.) By Sight. 

9. WHAT DO WE PERCEIVE? 41 

10. WHAT IS IT THAT PERCEIVES? 42 

SECTION III. 
SENSE-INTERPRETATION. 

1. THE DOUBLE CHARACTER OF SENSE-PERCEPTION 44 

2. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES 44 

(1.) The Order of Development. 
(2.) The Mode of Development. 

3. TWO CLASSES OF SENSE-PERCEPTIONS 47 

4. ACQUIRED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS 47 

(1.) Of Touch. 
(2.) OfSmelL 
(3.) Of Taste. 



X . ANALYSIS, 

(4.) Of Hearing. page 

(5.) Of Sight. 

5. THE LOCALIZATION OF SENSATIONS 49 

(1.) The Intuitional, or Nativistic, Theory. 
(2.) The Empirical, or Genetic, Theory. 

6. THE ILLUSIONS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION , 51 

(1.) Produced by the Environment. 
(2.) Produced by the Organism. 
(3.) Produced by Expectation. 

7. METHODS OF AVOIDING ILLUSION 56 

8. PERCEPTS AND OBJECTS 57 

9. THE ORGANIZATION OF PERCEPTS 58 

10. CONDITIONS OF ORGANIZING PERCEPTS 59 

(1.) A sufficient period of time. 

(2.) A certain intensity of impression. 

(3.) A certain psychical reaction, 

11. CHARACTER OF THE COMPLETED PRODUCT 62 

12. RELATIONS OF SOUL AND BODY 62 

(1.) Monism, 
(2.) Dualism. 

13. SENSE-PERCEPTION AND EDUCATION 65 

(1.) The earliest studies. 

(2.) The method of study. 

(3.) The Improvement of Sense-perception. 

CHAPTER II. 

REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 
DEFINITION AND DIVISION OF REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

SECTION I. 
ASSOCIATION. 

/. THE RELATION OF IMPRESSIONS 69 

2. THE LAWS OF ASSOCIATION.. 69 

3. THE PRIMARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION 72 

(1.) The Law of Resemblance. 
(2.) The Law of Contiguity. 
(3.) The Law of Contrast, 



ANALYSIS. xi 

PAGE 

4. THE SECONDARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION 74 

(1.) The Law of Intensity. 
(2.) The Law of Repetition. 

5. THE LAWS OF ASSOCIATION RESOLVED 76 

6. THE PLACE OF ASSOCIATION IN REPRESENTATIVE KNOWL- 

EDGE 79 

7. THE RELATION OF ASSOCIATION TO EDUCATION 80 

(1.) Associations formed by Others. 
(2,) Associations formed by the Learner. 

SECTION II. 
PHANTASY. 

.. DEFINITION AND NATURE OF PHANTASY... 83 

2. REPRESENTATIVE IDEAS 85 

3. THE MODES OF REPRODUCING IMAGES 87 

(i.) Physical Stimulation. 
(2.) Physiological Stimulation. 
(3.) Psychical Stimulation. 

4. HALLUCINATION 91 

5. UNCONSCIOUS MENTAL MODIFICATIONS 92 

6. UNCONSCIOUS CEREBRATION 94 

7. DREAMS AND REVERIE 95 

8. THE OPERATION OF PHANTASY 96 

9. THE RELATION OF PHANTASY TO EDUCATION 98 

(1.) Phantasy as an Aid to other Powers. 
(2.) The Training of Phantasy. 

SECTION III. 
MEMORY. 

1. DEFINITION OF MEMORY 102 

2. PERFECT AND IMPERFECT MEMORY 103 

3. MEMORY OF TIME 104 

(1.) Succession. 
(2.) Duration. 



xii ANALYSIS. 

PAGE 

4. VOLUNTARY AND INVOLUNTARY MEMORY 106 

5. AMNESIA, OR LOSS OF MEMORY 107 

(1.) From wounds or diseases affecting the brain. 
(2.) From intoxicants and anaesthetics. 
(3.) From excessive weariness. 
(4.) From old age. 

6. RELATION OF MEMORY TO THE ORGANISM 109 

7. RELATION OF MEMORY TO OTHER POWERS 110 

8. RELATION OF MEMORY TO EDUCATION Ill 

(1.) Acquisition with reference to Recognition. 
(2.) Practice in Recollection. 



SECTION IV. 
IMAGINATION. 

1. DEFINITION OF IMAGINATION 114 

2. THE CREATIVE ENERGY OF IMAGINATION 115 

3. THE CHARACTER OF IMAGINATIVE ACTIVITY 118 

4. THE LIMITATIONS OF IMAGINATION... 119 

5. VARIETIES OF IMAGINATION 120 

(1.) Scientific Imagination. 
(2.) Artistic Imagination. 
(3.) Ethical Imagination. 

6. EXPECTATION 126 

7. USES OF IMAGINATION 127 

8. THE DANGERS OF IMAGINATION 128 

9. THE CONDITIONS OF IMAGINATIVE ACTIVITY 129 

(1.) The presence of Images. 
(2.) A decided tendency of Mind, 
(3.) A voluntary activity of Mind. 

.0. RELATION OF IMAGINATION TO EDUCATION 130 

(1.) Imagination In Acquisition. 
(2.) Imagination in Production. 
(3.) The Training of Imagination. 



ANALYSIS. xiii 

CHAPTER 111. 

ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 
DEFINITION .AND DIVISION OF ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

SECTION I. 
CONCEPTION. 

PAGE 

1. USE OF THE WORD "CONCEPriON" 185 

2. THE PROCESS OF CONCEPTION 135 

(>.) Presentation. 

(2.) Comparison. 

(3.) Abstraction. 

(4.) Generalization. * 

(5.) Denomination. 

3. THE COMPLETED CONCEPT 138 

(1.) A Concept Is not a Percept. 

(2.) A Concept is not an Image. 

(3.) A Concept combines similar qualities. 

(4.) A Concep't is purely relative. 

(5.) A Concept is an incomplete form of Know'edge. 

4. THE REALITY OF CONCEPTS 141 

5. REALISM 141 

(1.) The Extreme Realists. 
(2.) The Moderate Realists. 

6. NOMINALISM 142 

7. CONCEPTUALISM 144 

8. RELATIONISM 145 

9. PERFECT AND IMPERFECT CONCEPTS 146 

10. THE HYPOSTASIZING OF ABSTRACT IDEAS 147 

11. RELATION OF CONCEPTION TO EDUCATION 148 

(1.) Scientific Knowledge, 
(2,) Linguistic Study. 
(3.) The Order of Studies. 



xiv AI^ALYSIS. 

SECTION II. 

JUDGMENT. 

FAGE 

1. DEFINITION OF JUDGMENT 152 

2. RELATION OF JUDGMENT TO OTHER PROCESSES 153 

3. THE ELEMENTS OF A JUDGMENT 154 

4. CLASSIFICATION OF JUDGMENTS 155 

(i.) As to Origin. 
(2.) As to Certainty. 
(3.) As to Form. 
(4.) As to Quantity. 
(5.) As to Quality. 
(6.) As to Inclusion. 

5. THE CATEGORIES OF JUDGMENT 157 

6. THE RELATION OF JUDGMENT TO EDUCATION 159 

(1.) Independence of Judgment In the Learner. 
(2,) The Cultivation of Judgment. * 

SECTION III, 
REASONING. 

1. DEFINITION OF REASONING , 161 

2. THE ASSUMPTIONS OF ALL REASONING 163 

3. INDUCTIVE REASONING 162 

4. PROCESSES SUBSIDIARY TO INDUCTION 163 

(1.) Observation. 
(2.) Experiment. 
(3.) Hypothesis. 
(4.) Verification. 

5. ASSUMPTIONS OF INDUCTIVE INFERENCE 164 

6. DEDUCTIVE REASONING 165 

7. ORIGIN OF UNIVERSAL JUDGMENTS 165 

(1.) The Inductive Theory, 
(2.) The Hereditary Theory. 

8. TWO FORMS OF EXPRESSING DEDUCT40N 167 

(1.) The Explicit, or Syllogistic. 
(2.) The Implicit, or Enthymematlc. 



ANALYSIS. XV 



9. SYSTEMATIZATION 168 

10. THE RELATION OF REASONING TO EDUCATION 169 

(1.) Disciplinary Studies. 

(2.) The Instrument of Reasoning. 

(3.) The Limits of Reasoning. 

CHAPTER IV. 

CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 
DEFINITION AND DIVISION OF CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

SECTION I. 
BEING. 

1. THE REALITY OF BEING 174 

2. SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE 175 

3. TWO KINDS OF BEING 176 

(1.) Matter. 
(2.) Spirit. 

4. QUANTITY 179 

5. QUALITY 179 

6. MODALITY 179 

7. NUMBER 179 

8. RELATION 180 

9. INFINITY 183 

SECTION II, 
CAUSE. 

1. VARIOUS SENSES OF THE WORD "CAUSE" 185 

2. OPINIONS ON THE NATURE OF EFFIGIENT CAUSE 185 

(1.) Resolution of Cause into Antecedent and Consequent. 
(2.) Resolution of Cause into Subjective Experience. 
(3.) Resolution of Cause Into a Relation of Concepts. 
(4.) Resolution of Cause Into an Impotency of Mind. 
(5.) Resolution of the Idea of Cause into an Intuition. 



xvi ANALYSIS. 

FAGK 

3. FINAL CAUSE 189 

4. THE PRINCIPLE OF FINAL CAUSE 190 

5. DISTINCTIONS OF TELEOLOGICAL TERMS , 191 

(1.) Chance. 
(2.) Adaptation. 
(3.) Order. 
(4.) Correlation. 
(5.) Convergence. 

6. CONDITIONS IMPLIED IN FINAL CAUSE 195 

7. THE ULTIMATE CAUSE 198 

SECTION III. 
SPACE. 

1. RELATIONS OF CO-EXISTING BODIES 200 

2. SPACE, EXTENSION, AND IMMENSITY DISTINGUISHED.... 201 

3. SPACE A RELATION, NOT A SUBSTANCE OR AN ATTRIBUTE. 202 

4. THE OBJECTIVITY OF SPACE 204 

5. REAL AND IDEAL SPACE 205 

SECTION IV. 
TIME. 

1. RELATIONS OF SUCCESSIVE PHENOMENA 207 

2. TIME, DURATION. AND ETERNITY DISTINGUISHED 208 

3. TIME A RELATION, NOT A SUBSTANCE OR AN ATTRIBUTE. 208 

4. THE OBJECTIVITY OF TIME 209 

5. REAL AND IDEAL TIME 209 

6. THE RELATION OF SPACE AND TIME TO EACH OTHER... 210 

SECTION V. 
THE DEVELOPMENT OF INTELLECT. 

1. SUMMARY OF RESULTS 213 

2. THE STAGES OF KNOWING 215 

3. THE DEVELOPMENT OF INTELLECT 215 

4. THE PARALLEL DEVELOPMENT OF INTELLECT AND BRAIN. 216 

5. THE INHERITANCE OF INTELLECT 218 



ANALYSIS. xvii 



PART II.— SENSIBILITY. 

PAGE 

.. DEFINITION OF SENSIBILITY 221 

2. DIFFICULTIES IN TREATING THE PHENOMENA OF SENSI- 

BILITY 222 

(i.) They exist only under certain conditions. 
(2.) They are exceedingly evanescent. 
(3.) They readily blend together. 

3. A SCIENCE OF SENSIBILITY POSSIBLE 224 

4. CHARACTERISTICS OF SENSIBILITY 225 

5. THE QUALITY AND QUANTITY OF FEELINGS 226 

6. DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT 226 



CHAPTER I. 

SENSATIONS. 

CLASSIFICATION OF SENSATIONS. 

SECTION I. 

SIMPLE SENTIENCE. 

1. KINDS OF SIMPLE SENTIENCE 228 

(1.) Muscular. 
(2.) Organic. 
(3.) Special. 

2. CONDITIONS OF SIMPLE SENTIENCE 231 

(1.) Internal. 
(2.) External. 

3. CONDITIONS OF PLEASURABLE SENTIENCE 232 

4. CONDITIONS OF PAINFUL SENTIENCE 233 

5. THE RANGE OF SENSATION 235 

6. THE LAWS OF PLEASURABLE SENSATION 236 

(1.) The Law of Variety. 
(2.) The Law of Harmony. 



xviii • ANALYSIS. 



7. THE ASSOCIATION OF SENSATIONS 237 

8. RELATION OF SENSATION TO EDUCATION.. - 238 

(1.) Government of the Child through his Sensations. 
(2.) Government of the Sensations through the Child. 

SECTION II. 
APPETITE. 

.. APPETITE DISTINGUISHED FROM SIMPLE SENTIENCE.... 240 

2. NATURAL APPETITES 241 

(1.) Hunger. 
(2.) Thirst. 
(3.) Suffocation. 
(4.) Weariness. 
(5.) Restlessness. 
(6.) Sexual Passion. 

3. ACQUIRED APPETITES 244 

4. INHERITED APPETITES 245 

5. THE CONTROL OF APPETITE 246 

6. RELATION OF APPETITE TO EDUCATION.. 247 

(1.) Appetite an Impediment to Education. 
(2.) Appetite and Self-control. 

CHAPTER II. 

SENTIMENTS. 
THE THREE CLASSES OF SENTIMENTS. 

SECTION I. 
EMOTION. 

1. THE NATURE OF EMOTION.. 250 

2. THE EXPRESSION OF EMOTION 251 

3. THE PRODUCTION OF EMOTION.... 253 

4. KINDS OF EMOTION 255 



ANALYSIS. xix 

PAGE 

5. EGOISTIC EMOTIONS 255 

(1.) Emotions of Joy. 
(2.) Emotions of Sorrow. 
(3.) Emotions of Pride. 
(4.) Emotions of Humility, 
(5.) Emotions of Hope. 
(6.) Emotions of Fear. 
(7.) Emotions of Wonder. 
(8.) Sympathetic Emotions. 

6. /tSTHETIC EMOTIONS 260 

(1.) Emotions of the Comical. 
(2.) Emotions of the Beautiful. 
(3.) Emotions of the Sublime. 
(4.) Emotions of the Pathetic. 

7. ETHICAL EMOTIONS 268 

(1.) Emotions of Approval. 
(2.) Emotions of Disapproval. 

8. RELIGIOUS EMOTIONS 269 

(1.) The Emotion of Dependence. 
(2.) The Emotion of Adoration. 

9. REUTIONS OF EMOTION AND KNOWLEDGE 271 

(1.) Emotion antagonizes present Knowledge. 

(2.) Emotion stimulates us for future Knowledge. 

(3.) Emotion affords a bond between forms of past Knowledge. 

(4.) Emotion furnishes a powerful impulse to Imagination. 

(5.) Emotion is the principal cause of Interest. 

(6.) Emotion is a source of Intellectual Prejudice. 

10. RELATION OF EMOTION TO EDUCATION 274 

(1.) The Emotive Training of Children. 
(2.) The Emotive Treatment of the Learner. 
(3.) The Emotive Influence of the Environment. 
(4.) The Emotive Influence of Instruction. 
(5.) The Emotive Effect of Practice. 

SECTION II. 

DESIRE. 

.. NATURE OF DESIRE 280 

2. KINDS OF DESIRE ' 281 



XX ANALYSIS. 

PAGE 

3. THE PERSONAL DESIRES.. 282 

(1.) Desire of continued Existence, or Self-preservation. 

(2.) Desire of Pleasure, or Self-indulgence. 

(3.) Desire of Knowledge, or Curiosity. 

(4.) Desire of Property, or Acquisitiveness. 

(5.) Desire of Power, or Ambition. 

4. THE SOCIAL DESIRES 286 

(1.) Desire of Companionship, or Sociability. 
(2.) Desire of Imitation, or Imitatlveness. 
(3.) Desire of Esteem, or Approbativeness. 
(4.) Desire of Superiority, or Emulation. 

5. DESIRE AND WILL 289 

6. DESIRE AND EDUCATION 289 

(i.) The Educational Use of the Desires. 
(2.) The Regulation of the Desires. 

SECTION III. 
AFFECTION. 

1. NATURE OF AFFECTION 293 

2. THE CLASSIFICATION OF AFFECTIONS 294 

(1.) According to Objects. 
(2.) According to Quality. 
(3.) According to Modes of Origin. 

3. THE VOLUNTARY ELEMENT IN AFFECTION 295 

4. THE PRINCIPAL TYPES OF AFFECTION 296 

(1.) Love and Hate. 
(2.) Gratitude and Ingratitude. 
(3.) Trust and Suspicion. 
(4.) Pity and Contempt. 

5. THE POLARITY OF AFFECTION 300 

6. AFFECTION AND EDUCATION 301 

(1.) Inspiration and Influence of the Affections. 
(2.) Direction and Training of the Affections. 

SECTION IV. 

THE DEVELOPMENT OF SENSIBILITY. 

.. SUMMARY OF RESULTS 304 

2. THE STAGES OF FEELING 305 



ANALYSIS. XXI 

PAGE 

3. THE DEVELOPMENT OF SENSIBILITY 305 

4. HABITUAL FEELING 306 

5. HABITUAL EXPRESSION 307 

6. THE INHERITANCE OF FEELINGS 308 



PART III— WILL. 

1. DEFINITION OF WILL 309 

2. THE STUDY OF WILL PSYCHOLOGICAL 310 

3. TWO MODES OF ACTION 310 

CHAPTER I. 

INVOLUNTARY ACTIONS. 
DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 

SECTION /. 
THE MOTOR MECHANISM. 

.. STRUCTURE OF THE MOTOR MECHANISM 313 

2. KINDS OF MOTOR ACTIVITY... 313 

3. PHYSICAL CONTROL OF THE MOTOR MECHANISM 315 

(t.) Innervation. 
(2.) Inhibition. 

4. THE LIMITATIONS OF THE MOTOR MECHANISM 316 

5. THE MOTOR MECHANISM AND EDUCATION 317 

SECTION II. 
INSTINCTIVE ACTION. 

1. DEFINITION OF INSTINCTIVE ACTION 318 

2. CHARACTERISTICS OF INSTINCT 319 

(1.) Ignorance of the end. 
(2.) Absolute fatality. 
(3.) General uniformity. 
(4.) Priority to experience. 



xxii ANALYSIS, . ' " ' 

PAGE 

3. INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE 320 

4. INSTINCTS IN MAN 321 

(1.) Instincts preservative of Self. 

(2.) Instincts preservative of the Species. 

5. RELATION OF INSTINCT TO EDUCATION 323 

(1.) Instinct may be overruled by Intelligence. 
(2,) No natural Instinct requires to be destroyed. 

SECTION III. 
ACQUIRED ACTION. 

1. DEFINITION OF ACQUIRED ACTION 325 

2. THE ORIGIN OF HABITS 326 

3. THE LAWS OF HABIT 327 

(1.) The Law of increasing Automatism. 
(2.) The Law of destination of Character. 

4. CEREBRATION 328 

5. HYPNOTIZATION 330 

(1.) The Hypnotic State. 
(2.) The Hypnotic Actions, 
(3.) The Explanations offered. 

6. SOMNAMBULISM 333 

7. LANGUAGE 334 

8. THE ACQUISITION OF LANGUAGE 336 

9. HABIT AND EDUCATION 337 

CHAPTER II. 

VOLUNTARY ACTION. 
DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 

SECTION I. 
SOLICITATIGN. 



.. DEFINITION OF SOLICITATION 339 

2. MOTORS AND MOTIVES DISTINGUISHED 340 

3. THE ORIGIN OF MOTIVES 342 



ANALYSIS, xxiii 

PAGE 

4. THE QUALITIES OF MOTIVES 343 

5. THE RELATION OF MOTIVES TO FEELING 344 

6. THE CLASSIFICATION OF MOTIVES 344 

7. SOLICITATION AND EDUCATION 345 

SECTION II. 
DELIBERATION. 

.. THE FIELD OF CONSCIOUSNESS 347 

2. ATTENTION 348 

3. COMPOUND ATTENTION 349 

4. OBJECTS OF DELIBERATION 351 

(1.) The end. 
(2.) The means. 
(3.) The time. 

5. THE PLACE OF JUDGMENT IN DELIBERATION 352 

6. SUSPENSION OF ACTION 353 

7. DELIBERATION AND EDUCATION 354 

(1.) The Cultivation of Thoughtfulness. 

(->.) The relation of Enlightenment and Punishment. 

SECTION III. 
VOLITION. 

c. THE NATURE OF VOLITION .' 355 

(1.) Volition is not compulsion. 
(2,) Volition is not desire. 
(3.) Volition is not motive. 

2. THE FORMS OF VOLITION 358 

(1.) Attention. 
(2.) Assent. 
(3.) Choice. 
■ (4.) Execution. 

3. LIBERTY AND NECESSITY 361 

(1.) The Theory of Liberty. 
(3.) The Theory of Necessity 



xxiv ' ANALYSIS. 

PAGE 

4. VOLITION AND EDUCATION 364 

(1.) The Presentation of Motives. 
(2.) The Sphere of Freedom. 

SECTION IV. 
THE DEVELOPMENT OF WILL. 

1. SUMMARY OF RESULTS 366 

2. THE STAGES OF VOLITION 367 

3. THE DEVELOPMENT OF WILL. . . . . 368 

4. HABITUAL VOLITION 369 

5. THE INHERITANCE OF WILL..... 370 

6. THE LAW OF VOLUNTARY ACTION 371 

7. THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL 373 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES, 



PAGE 

1. DIAGRAM ILLUSTRATING THE GENERAL ARRANGEMENT 

OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 377 

2. A VERTICAL SECTION THROUGH THE CAVITY OF THE 

SKULL 379 

3. A TRANSVERSE SECTION THROUGH THE SPINAL CORD. 379 

4. GENERAL VIEW OF THE CEREBRUM 381 

5. HORIZONTAL SECTION OF THE CRANIUM AND CERE- 

BRUM 381 

6. HORIZONTAL SECTION THROUGH THE CEREBRUM 383 

7. VERTICAL SECTION OF THE BRAIN, SHOWING ITS LOBES. 383 

8. NERVE-CELLS AND NERVE-FIBRES 385 

9. VERTICAL SECTION OF A PORTION OF THE SKIN 387 

10. LARGER VIEWS OF THE CUTANEOUS PAPILL>E 387 

M. VERTIC SECTIONAL THROUGH THE RIGHT NASAL FOSSA. 389 

12. TASTE-BUDS 389 

13. THE EAR, SHOWING EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL POR- 

TIONS 391 

14. THE RODS OF CORTI 391 

15. EYEBALL IN HORIZONTAL SECTION, SHOWING RETINA 

AND NERVE 393 

16. A SECTION THROUGH THE RETINA FROM ITS INNER TO 

ITS OUTER SURFACE 395 

17. LEFT EYEBALL, SEEN FROM ABOVE, SHOWING OPTIC 

COMMISSURE 397 

18. ILLUSTRATING OPTICAL ILLUSION IN PERSPECTIVE.... 397 

19. THE MUSCLES OF EMOTIVE EXPRESSION 399 

20. THE MUSCLES OF THE MOUTH USED IN EXPRESSION.. 399 

21. CUTS SHOWING THE EFFECT OF OBLIQUE LINES IN 

EXPRESSION 401 

22. THE MOTOR MECHANISM 401 

23. DIAGRAM OF LANGUAGE ASSOCIATIONS 403 




a) (5 " r 



1. Definition of Psychology. 

Psychology (from the Greek ipvxrj, psyche, soul, and 
Xoyog, logos, discourse, or science) is the science of the 
soul. It is a science, not a philosophy ; because it pos- 
sesses the character of definite and positive knowledge 
derived from observation, not that of theory and specula- 
tion. It is the science of the soul, or conscious self, in 
its completeness, being broader in its scope than what is 
known as " mental science" or " intellectual philosophy.^' 

This definition merely limits, in a rude way, the subject matter 
of our study, indicating the soul or conscious self, as the subject of 
our investigation. The nature of the soul, so far as it may be dis- 
covered, will gradually appear as we proceed with our study. Every 
such formal definition is inadequate. The term " Psychology " has 
now come into general use to designate this department of study, 
having superseded the older and less precise designations. The word 
"soul" is also now more generally employed than "mind," which 
more strictly denotes the intellectual, or knowing, power of the soul. 
The adjective ''psychical" has also largely taken the place of the 
more popular word ** mental " in the later and more scientific dis- 
cussions.* 



2 INTRODVCTlON, 

2. The Sphere of Psychology. 

In the constitution of man two systems are united: 

(1) An outer system, to which we refer the sun, moon 
and stars, the earth and our own visible bodies ; and 

(2) An inner system, to which we refer our pleasures 
and pains, our thoughts and desires, and the origin of 
many of our actions. This inner system furnishes the 
facts of Psychology. 

The science, therefore, differs from the physical sciences 
in this, that the leading facts with which it deals lie open 
to the inspection of consciousness, while those of the 
physical sciences are apprehended through the organs of 
sense. N^ature has thus provided for all the best facilities 
for this study, for its sphere is the inner circle of the con ' 
scious self. 

We do not here raise any question as to the nature of the con- 
scious self, or propose any metaphysical distinctions. Metaphysics, 
in its proper sense, is an inquiry into the ultimate nature and con- 
stitution of being. It is sometimes also called Ontology, or the 
science of being. We limit ourselves, for the present, to facts of 
observation, and, if metaphysical or ontological inferences arise in 
the progress of our study, it will be only as a logical necessity of the 
observed facts. 

3. Sciences related to Psychology. 

There are several sciences which are closely related to 
Psychology, either because of deriving their facts |rom 
the nature of man, or because of their supplying partial 
explanations of psychical phenomena. Biology treats of 
the general phenomena of life. Physiology deals with the 
processes and functions of the body, some of which are 
connected with the production of conscious states. Anatomy 



INTRODUCTION. 3 

treats of the form and structure of the bodily organs. 
Pathology deals with the conditions of health and disease^ 
some of which affect consciousness. Anthropology is the 
science of the human species, shoAving that many of the 
phenomena which we discover in ourselves are common to 
our kind. 

A few speculative writers have endeavored to push these sciences 
into the sphere of Psychology so as to cover its entire territory and 
make it seem to be superfluous. Some would regartl it as a mere 
province of Biology. There has lately risen a school of Physiological 
Psychologists, who would attempt to explain all the facts of con- 
scious life by purely physiological causes. Such efforts have been, 
so far, unsuccessful. Others, priiicipally in Germany, would merge 
Psychology into Anthropology by founding it mainly on the study 
and comparison of different races of men, giving prominence to 
what is known as Ethnological Psychology. Still others would treat 
Human Psychology as a mere discussion of animal sentience and 
regard it as a branch of Comparative Psychology, ranking man 
as a single member of the animal kingdom. The reasons for regard- 
ing Psychology as an independent science will appear in our subse- 
quent treatment. 

4. The Kelation of Psychology to Education. 

Education aims to fit its subject for the realization of 
his destiny. It consists of two |)rocesses : (1) instruction, 
which imparts ideas ; and (2) discipline, which develops^, 
expands, and regulates the powers, at, is plain, that the 
educator should know as much as possible of the nature, 
powers, processes and laws of the soul, for his success is 
largely dependent upon this knowledge. The study of 
Psychology, therefore, is essential to a preparation for 
teaching. 

The science of education is called Pedagogics, from a Greek word 
meaning a conductor of children, applied to the attendant who 



i INTRODUGTIOK 

accompanied them to school. Pedagogics is, in reality, little more 
than applied Psychology. Whoever understands the science of the 
soul, possesses the fundamental principles of the science of educa- 
tion. Experience alone can furnish the corresponding art. The 
theory of teaching begins in Psychology, and it has been a leading 
idea in the composition of this text-book to render it serviceable to 
those who contemplate teaching as a profession. 

5. The Psychological Method. 

As Psychology is the science of the soul itself, the 
method by which it must be pursued differs from that of 
other sciences. The physical sciences deal with objective, 
or external, facts, which can be observed only through the 
senses. Psychology deals only with subjective, or interior, 
facts, and hence the senses cannot be employed in observ- 
ing them. The psychological method consists in the 
analysis of consciousness, or of the interior knowing self 
and its states. This method is called introspective (from 
the Latin intro, within, and specere, to look). 

In so far as Psychology is a science apart from the sciences that 
have been named as related to it, it must discover its facts by intro- 
spection, or internal observation. It may, however, supplement its 
own results by borrowing from other sources. Its claim to being 
an independent science must stand or fall with its ability to vindicate 
its power of adducing facts not otherwise observable. This seems 
easy, for no method of external investigation can discover the facts 
of consciousness, and no one oan deny that there are such facts. It 
may derive aid from Physiology, observation of the lower animals, 
the outward life of children, the phenomena of mental disease, the 
manners and customs of different races of men, and the study of 
human languages and institutions, which express the inner life of 
man. But not one of these interesting data would have any intel- 
ligible meaning, except as interpreted to our consciousness and ex- 
plained in terms of our conscious experience. 



INTRODUCTION, 6 

6. The Validity of the Method. 

The validity of the psychological^ or introspective, 
method has been called in question by Auguste Comte 
(1797-1857), a French philosopher, Henry Maudsley (1835- 

), an English physiologist, and others of less note. 
Their main objection is, that, in trying to observe' its 
present state, the conscious self destroys that state by pro- 
ducing another, if it can even be admitted that the soul 
can modify its states in any way whatever. These are 
purely speculative difficulties. It is a simple fact of con- 
sciousness that the soul does observe its own states. The 
testimony of consciousness cannot be denied without 
self-contradiction ; for, he who doubts it either doubts 
arbitrarily, or else he relies upon consciousness for the 
affirmation of his doubt. The madman^s delusion only 
strengthens our faith in the trustworthiness of conscious- 
ness, for it is because of our belief in its veracity in 
reporting an abnormal state that we pronounce him in- 
sane rather than a willful deceiver. 

Comte's argument against introspection is: "In order to o,b- 
serve, your intellect must pause from activity, yet it is this very 
activity which you want to observe. If you cannot effect the pause, 
you cannot observe; if you do effect it, there is nothing to observe. "^ 
Henry Calderwood (1830- ), a Scotch writer and professor, 
offers the following refutation : '* The argument involves neglect of 
the following facts : that intellectual activity implies consciousness ; 
that attention to its own states is a possibility of mind ; that repeti- 
tion, in consequence of the same act, leads to increased familiarity 
with it; that memory admits of the recall of what has previously 
passed through consciousness. There is, therefore, no necessity 
for a pause in order to attain knowledge of personal activity." ^ 
Maudsley accepts Comte's argument and adds: *'(a) There are but 
few individuals who arc capable of attending to the succession of 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

phenomena in their own minds ; (b) there is no agreement between 
those who have acquired the power of introspection; (c) as long as 
you cannot effect the pause necessary for self-contemplation, there 
can be no observation of the current of activity ; if the pause is 
effected, there is nothing to observe." * Even if but a few can 
use the intrcvspective method, and they do not agree, the point is 
conceded. As a matter of fact, all the members of an ordinary class 
can- use it, and they usually agree in their results upon important 
points. 

7. The Primary Affirmations of the Soul. 

The soul begins the analysis of itself with three primary 
affirmations, in which all agree, which are not derived 
from each other, but are universally, necessarily and im- 
mediately known to every being capable of such analysis. 
These affirmations are incapable of proof, for all proof is 
either by induction or deduction, and both these processes 
are impossible without these affirmations. They are as 
follows : 

(1) The Affirmation of Existence, in which the soul 
affirms to itself the fact that something is, or has being. 
This is the discrimination between being and non-being, ■ 
or something and nothing. 

(2) The Affirmation of Co-existence, in which the soul 
affirms to itself the fact that something is which is not 
self, which has being that is not its being. This is the 
distinction between the Ego and the non-Ego, or between 
self and non-self. 

(3) The Affirmation of Persistence, in which the soul 
affirms to itself that some forms of being in existence now 
were known by it to be in existence before now and are the 
same. This is the discrimination between stability and 
change, or permafience and mutability. 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

These affirmations of the soul show its structural capacity for 
self-knowledge. That which each one of us calls "Self," "I," or 
" Ego,'' knows being, knows itself as being and other being as not 
itself, knows itself as having been and as being that which was. 
Here, again, we wish to avoid metaphysical or ontological inferences. 
Each student of these doctrines must decide for himself whether or 
not he necessarily and immediately makes these affirmations as soon 
as his thought is directed to them. Nothing is here affirmed as to 
the nature, the origin, or the cause of this self -knowing being, the 
soul. 

8. The Three Elemental Phenomena of the Soul. 

If we examine the contents of consciousness, we find 
three different kinds of phenomena which are elemental 
but enter into composition in our psychical experience : 

(1) Knowledge is a condition of certitude which the 
soul discovers in itself whenever objects are presented. 
Thus,. I take this book in my hand and I know that I 
have it, that it is this book, and that it differs from other 
surrounding objects. 

(2) Feeling is a state of the soul different from knowl- 
edge, not easily described, but readily discriminated. 
Thus, I touch the book with my finger and, in addition 
to the knowledge that I touch it, there rises in me what I 
call db feeling, distinct from the knowledge. 

(3) Volition is an act of the soul different from both 
knowledge and feeling. I lift the book from the table. 
It is my act. It has originated in me, not in the book or 
in the table. 

These elemental phenomena accompany one another, 
but are not identical, and cannot be resolved into or 
derived from one another. 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

9. The Three Elemental Powers of the Soul. 

To these three elemental phenomena of the soul corre- 
spond three powers, or faculties, which nearly all modern 
psychologists recognize as different and irreducible. They 
are : 

(1) Intellect, or the power of knowing, exercised when 
we are conscious of a fact or relation as an object of 
knowledge. 

(2) Sensibility, or power of feeling, exercised when one 
feels pain on inflicting a wound or pleasure on hearing 
agreeable news. 

(3) Will, or power of self-direction, exercised when one 
forms a purpose of action and resolves to perform it. 

These powers are possessed by the same being and are 
exercised at the same time, so that, notwithstanding its 
variety of capabilities, we must believe in the unity of the 
soul. 

The word " faculty " is derived from the Latin facultas, from 
facere, to do, to make, and signifies a power or ability. The G-er- 
man philosopher, J. F. Herbart (1776-1841), denied the existence of 
psychical faculties, but has found few followers in this denial. 
Before the time of the German philosopher, Immanuel Kant (1724- 
1804), a two-fold division of faculties prevailed. Aristotle (B.C. 
384-322) recognized two faculties, "thought" (vovg) and "desire" 
(ope^t^). Thomas Reid (1710-1796), a Scotch metaphysician, and 
his immediate followers, treated of the ' ' intellectual powers " and 
the " active powers." In these schemes, feeling was divided between 
the knowing and the acting faculties. Since the Scotch philosopher, 
Sip William Hamilton (1788-1856), who divided the soul into (1) 
"intellect," (2) "sensibility," and (3) "will," and the phenomena 
of consciousness into (1) "cognitions," (2) "feelings, "and (3) "cona- 
tions," the three-fold division has been almost universal among those 
who admit separate faculties at all. Even those who put " associa- 
tion of ideas " in the place of faculties, recognize the three elemental 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

phenomena, knowledge, feeling and volition. Those who make 
much of evolution in explaining the phenomena of consciousness, as 
the Scotch psychologist, Alexander Bain (1818- ), and the Eng- 
lish philosopher, Herbert Spencer (1820- ), attempt to derive 
knowledge and volition by development from feeling. 

The idea of the soul's unity is thus expressed by Hermann Ulrici 
(1806- ), a German philosopher: "To the individual mutable 
moments of experience are opposed a continuity and steadfastness of 
self-consciousness, and by the side of the multifarious, variously 
shifting contents there comes into play at every moment the con- 
sciousness of the unity and identity of the Ego ; and this conscious- 
ness, though it may be dim and undefined, attends every act of our 
intellectual life. The Ego which now apprehends itself as sentient 
or percipient, now putting forth effort, willing, etc., knows itself at 
the same time as one, and the same, the abiding self. . . . We 
implicitly contrast ourself as unity with the mutation and manifold- 
ness of our psychical life." ^ 

10. Division of Psychology. 

In a systematic study of the phenomena and faculties 
of the soul, without forgetting the natural unity that 
combines these, we must follow the example of the 
anatomists and study the different elements separately. 
Adopting the generally accepted division of the faculties 
of the soul, we shall now treat of 

I, Intellect, 
II. Sensibility, 
III. Will, 

References : (1) For the discussion of these and other terms, see 
Fleming's Vocabulary of Philosophy, under each word. (2) The 
PosUive Philosophy of Auguste Comte (Martineau's Translation), 
T., p. 11. (8) Calderwood's Handbook of Moral Philosophy, p. 5. 
(4) Maudsley's The Physiology of Mind (American Edition), pp. 16, 
17. (5) Fleming's Vocabulary, p. 876. 



10 



PSYCHOLOGY. 



^ 



11^ 

lU P <5i C) 



.50 <« O 

CO CO o 

SS § S 












^ S '^^ SR 






. q ^- rCS -S -^ 

I I I I i I I I I I I I I I I I I 



I I I I 



Hi 

I I I 



o 

2: « 

II 

<50 vj. 



e<3 v^ ^ 1^ So ^ 



~»*J ""^O T*-S TO -*C1 -^O T*0 '^^ "XJ -^O T-a ">0 TO T»* -Xi T*0 T*^ T*J TO ->0 TO TO T*i "T*^ TO ""1*0 TO TO 

C^ C^ CO C^ CO Oq Oq Cq C^ dQ Oq Oq ^ ^ Cq Oq^Q^CqCoOq Oq &Q Oq Cq Cq CO ^ 



c/) 

h- 
O 

UJ 
Q. 
CO 

■ZL 

o 
o 






W 



< ^ 
DC I 
UJ ^ 



bo 






o 
ba 

'^ 

O 



bo 

o 



-1-3 
PI 

1 



o 






O 



O 






A6o|oijoXsd 



Pu 



PSYCHOLOGY. 



PART l.-INTELLECT. 



1. Definition of Intellect. 

Intellect is the faculty of knowing. The word is derived 
from the Latin inter, between, and legere, to gather, and 
signifies the power of discrimination, or discernment of 
resemblances and differences, which the soul makes in its 
experiences. Knowledge is gathered in the transition 
from one experience to another in which resemblances or 
differences appear. An acute Intellect discerns these 
sharply, a dull Intellect either imperfectly or not at all. 

Bain has named as the three fundamental attributes of Intel- 
lect, (1) Discrimination, or consciousness of difference, (2) Con- 
sciousness of Agreement, and (3) Retentiveness, or power of 
retaining impressions.* James Sully (1842- ), an English psy- 
chologist, rejects Bain's co-ordination of Retentiveness with Dis- 
crimination, on the ground that Retentiveness is rather a condition 
than a form of knowing. He supplies a name for Bain's second 
function of Intellect, Assimilation. According to Sully's analysis. 
Intellect has two functions : (1) Discrimination, the knowing of 
differences ; and (2) Assimilation, the knowing of resemblances. ^ 

As an example of intellectual action, suppose a person endowed 
with no organ of sense but an eye. Suppose the eye to be filled with 
blue light. The person would have a sensation of blue. Now sup- 



12 PSYCHOLOGY. 

pose the blue light to be suddenly removed and a red light substi- 
tuted. The person v^-ould have a sensation of red light. In the 
transition from the blue to the red, a knowledge of difference would 
be gathered and also a knowledge of resemblance, the two sensations 
belonging to the same order, sensations of color. Unusual power of 
discrimination is known as "sharpness" of Intellect ; unusual power 
of assimilation, as "breadth" of Intellect. 



2. Definition of Knowledge. 

Knowledge is that condition of certitude in the soul 
that arises when realities or relations are consciously ap- 
prehended. It is the correlative of being. When perfect, 
it is identified with truth, which is the correspondence be- 
tween consciousness and reality. When the conditions of 
knowledge seem to the Intellect 'to be fulfilled, the soul 
accepts the corresponding object of knowledge as really 
existing. 

We must distinguish knowledge from feeling, which is merely a 
sentient condition ; from volition, which is a personal determina- 
tion ; from doubt, which is the soul's hesitation with regard to a 
proposition ; and from belief, which is the soul's assent to a proposi- 
tion without positive knowledge. 

3. Various Forms of Knowledge. 

Our different forms of knowledge are most conveniently 
classified according to the ways in which they are acquired. 

(1) Some knowledge is presented immediately to the 
soul when it attends to what is within or about it, as the 
souFs knowledge of its own states and the simplest 
perceptions of the senses. This is called Ppesentative 
Knowledge. 

(2) Such knowledge, at a later time, is brought to con- 



INTELLECT. 13 

sciousness again, either in the old or in new relations, 
having in some way been reproduced within us. This is 
called Representative Knowledge. 

(3) Still other knowledge is given us neither by pres- 
entation nor by representation, but is the result of our 
own psychical action itself ; as w'hen a chemist affirms 
that all acids turn blue litmus paper red, or that there is 
an acid in a given compound because it turns the paper 
red. This is called Elaborative Knowledge. 

(4) Finally, we have a fourth kind of knowledge that 
is not acquired by any of these modes, but is obtained by 
stating those postulates, or assumed truths, that underlie 
and are implied in the whole fabric of our knowledge, and 
without which all would be without unity, validity, or 
foundation. This is called Constitutive Knowledge. 

4. Division of the Subject. 

For the sake of a systematic order and because the out- 
line just given shows the progress of Intellect in its 
activity, we shall treat of each of these four kinds of 
knowledge in a separate chapter, as follows : 

(1) Presentative Knowledge; 

(2) Hepresentative Knowledge; , 

(3) Elaborative Knowledge; and 

(4) Constitutive Knowledge, 

References : (1) Bain's The Senses and the Intellect, p. 321. 
(2) Sully's Outlines of Psychology, pp. 26, 27. 



CHAPTHH L 

PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

TWO FORMS OF PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

Presentative knowledge, or knowledge presented im- 
mediately to the soul, is of two kinds : (1) that which is 
presented in Self-consciousness ; and (2) that which is 
furnished through Sense-perception. 



SBGTIOIT I. 

SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 
1. Self-consciousness Defined. 

Self-consciousness is the soul's knowledge of itself. In 

every act of knowledge there are three essential elements : 
(1) the knowing subject, or self-conscious Ego; (2) the 
object of knowledge ; and (3) the states and actions of the 
soul as affected by the object of knowledge. The know- 
ing self may not be prominent in the state of conscious- 
ness, but is essential to it. The object of knowledge may 
be either external or internal. The states and actions of 
the soul as affected by the object of knowledge may them- 
selves, in turn, become objects of knowledge. All three 
of these elements are included in what we designate by 
the word "consciousness," ''Self -consciousness^^ being 
limited to the souFs knowledge of itself as present in the 



PR^SENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 15 

field of consciousness. Self-consciousness is the founda- 
tion of all oup knowledge, because the soul's testimony to 
its own experiences is the only evidence of their reality. 

Consciousness cannot be defined. It is the pre-condition of any 
definition whatever. Every attempt to define it, therefore, moves in 
a circle. It is a fundamental and universal fact of psychical exist- 
ence. While indefinable, it is known to all, and the word may be 
used without attempt at definition. Psychological science can study 
its forms and conditions, but everywhere assumes its existence in the 
beings of which it treats. To the unconscious, no science is pos- 
sible. The reality of consciousness has never been denied. Self- 
consciousness, however, implies the presence in consciousness of a 
self-known subject, or being that knows itself as being conscious. 

Every denial of Self-consciousness tends to destroy the 
foundations of all knowledge ; for, if there is no conscious self 
that knows itself as a present witness to psychical experiences, we 
are without evidence that these experiences have taken place and the 
certainty of knowledge is questionable. A great French philosopher, 
Rene Descartes (1596-1650), sometimes called the "Father of 
Modern Psychology," began his philosophizing by doubting every- 
thing about which he could not be absolutely certain. At last, when 
he came to the question of his own existence, he reached a point 
beyond which doubt could not go. " Cogito, ergo sum,^' I thinh, 
therefore, I am, seemed to him beyond the possibility of doubt. 
Thinking does, indeed, seem impossible, unless the being that thinks, 
is. But I think, therefore, I am. Descartes has put in the form of 
an argument what it would seem more natural to regard as an in- 
tuition, or truth directly and immediately known without argument 
and, in reality, necessary to the existence of any argument. This 
is, probably, what Descartes really meant, for his argument is that 
the very idea of thinking implies the existence of a thinker as a 
pre-condition. 

2. Hume's Denial of Self-consciousness. 

David Hume (1711-1776), the Scotch skeptic, says: 
" For my part, when I enter most intimately into what I 



16 PStCBOLOaT. 

call myself, I always stumble on some particular percep- 
tion or other, of heat or cold, light or shade, love or hate, 
pain or pleasure. I can never catch myself at any time 
without a perception, and never can observe anything but 
the perception. . . , One may, perhaps, perceive some- 
thing simple and continued that he calls himself, though 
I am certain there is no such principle in me/^ * In this 
denial of Self -consciousness, Hume unwittingly admits : 
(1) that he can enter ^^most intimately ^^ into what he 
calls liimself; (2) that he always stumbles on some par- 
ticular perception, thus confessing the continuity of being 
which he formally denies ; (3) that he is certain, from 
continued self-inspection, that there is no continued 
principle in himself. As for his ^^ never catching himself 
without a perception,^^ Calderwood very acutely remarks, 
that, to prove his Self-consciousness, it is sufficient for 
him to catch himself with one. 

John Locke (1632-1704), an English philosopher of great celeb- 
rity, advanced a doctrine of Representative Ideas that seemed to 
involve a denial of our immediate knowledge of matter. George 
Berkeley (1684-1753), an Irish metaphysician and the founder of 
British Idealism, followed up Locke's doctrine and attempted to 
show that, assuming its truth, as he did, we have no knowledge, 
except of ideas. The whole universe was thus construed as a product 
of mind and a purely spiritual existence. Hume attacked Berkeley's 
doctrine by trying to show that, in following out the same principle, 
we have only an idea of mind as well as only an idea of matter ; 
that, in short, we know nothing as real and substantial, but only 
phenomena, or passing appearances. For Hume the soul is nothing 
but a series of sensations. James Mill (1773-1886), an English 
philosopher, and his more distinguished son, named in the following 
paragraph, have embraced and advocated this doctrine of Hume's. 
It is historically the foundation of modern Agnosticism (from the 
Greek a, alpha, implying negation, and yvuoig, gnosis, knowledge), 
or philosophic ignorance. 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 17 



3. Mill on Self-consciousness. 

John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), one of the most noted 
of recent English philosophers, defines the soul as **^a 
series of feelings/^ "a thread of consciousness/^ Although > 
he finds no difficulty in resolving matter into '^the per- 
manent possibility of sensations/^ he admits that, '^ If we 
speak of the mind as a series of feelings, we are obliged to 
complete the statement by calling it a series of feelings 
which is aware of itself as past and future ; and we are 
reduced to the alternative of believing that the mind, or 
EgOy is something different from any series of feelings, or 
possibilities of them ; or of accepting the paradox, that 
something which is ex hypotJiesi but a series of feelings, 
can be aware of itself as a series. "^ jje adds: "The theory 
cannot be expressed in any terms which do not deny its 
truth/' Unless we are willing to found our science on a 
mental paradox and a verbal contradiction, we cannot 
follow Hume and Mill in the denial of Self-conscious- 



The following paragraph by Borden P. Bowne (1847- ), an 
American psychologist, seems to be a refutation of Mill's doctrine : 

" Let a, h, c, and d be respectively a sensation of color, of odor, of 
taste, and of sound. Plainly no consciousness can be built out of 
these elements. The color knows nothing of the odor ; the taste 
knows nothing of the sound. Bach is a particular and isolated unit, 
and must remain so until some common subject, M, is given, in the 
unity of whose consciousness these elements may be united. For as 
long as a, h, c, etc., are all, there is no common consciousness, and 
hence no rational consciousness, at all. "We conclude, then, that 
the mental life, both in its elements and in its combinations, must 
have a subject. It is not only unintelligible, it is impossible, 
without it."* 



18 PSYCHOLOGY. 



4. Spencer's Denial of Immediate Self-conscious- 
ness. 

Herbert Spencer does not deny Self-consciousness, but 
immediate Self-consciousness. He says : ^^No one is con- 
scious of what lie is, but of what he was a moment before. 
... It is impossible to be at the same time that which 
regards and that which is regarded.'^* This denial of im- 
mediate self-knowledge proceeds from the theoretical 
ground that there is a contradiction in being at the same 
time observer and observed. No such impossibility has 
been proved. If it were, it would result in the same un- 
certainty of all our knowledge which Hume^s doctrine 
involves. One could never say, ^^I IcnoiOy' but only ^^\ 
knew" But how could one say '^ I knew,^' if at the 
time when he knew he did not know ? Spencer^s doctrine 
involves an absurdity. The simple fact of consciousness 
is that we know immediately that we know, without an 
interval of time. 

Spencer is the leading representative of Modern Agnosticism, 

and, with such psychological foundations, it would seem difficult for 
him to be certain of anything. He is, however, more consistent than 
Mill, for his doctrine involves no denial of the substantial being of 
the soul, simply our ignorance of it. Spencer's idea-that time must 
intervene between the existence of a state of consciousness and our 
knowledge of it as our state, may grow out of conceptions of thought 
as a physical function, requiring time for transmission. Sense- 
impressions, as we shall see later on, require time for passing from 
the sense-organs to the brain, and this time is measurable. It has 
never been proved, however, that any time intervenes between the 
production of a state of consciousness and our knowledge of it as 
ours. Doubtless we are conscious of impressions received by the 
brain after the brain has received them. This, however, is not the 
point. We are conscious of self as self is, or not at all. 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 19 

5. The Continuity of Sell-consciousness. 

Different opinions have been held concerning the con- 
tinuity or periodicity of Self-consciousness, Hamilton 
held that the soul is never unconscious of itself, even 
during sleep. Many of its experiences are lost from 
memory, leaving blank intervals between the experiences 
distinctly recalled. Locke, on the other hand, maintained 
that the soul is conscious only during certain periods, and 
that at other times, as in deep sleep, or during swoons, it 
is absolutely unconscious. The question is of small 
practical importance ; for, though it be shown that the 
soul is periodically rather than constantly conscious, it 
knows itself on regaining consciousness as having been 
before. If the soul still knows itself, after a period of 
unconsciousness, it is certainly something very different 
from a "series of feelings^'' or a "thread of conscious- 
ness.'^ 

Hamilton's defense of the continuity of consciousness is very 
ingenious and merits a careful reading. It may be found in his 
"Lectures on Metaphysics," p. 216 et seq. These arguments have 
been repeated and reinforced with considerable skill by an American 
psychologist, John Bascom (1827- ), in his "Science of Mind," 
p. 72 et seq. Locke's doctrine may be found in his "Essay con- 
cerning Human Understanding," Book II., Chap. I. 

6. Two Forms of Self-consciousness. 

Psychologists have distinguished two forms of Self- 
consciousness, which they call Spontaneous and Reflective. 
The distinction has value mainly in showing the different 
degrees of intensity with which Self-consciousness is 
realized. Spontaneous Self-consciousness is intended to 



20 PSYCHOLOGY. 

designate that low degree of self-knowledge which all 
men possess. Reflective Self-consciousness is meant to 
signify that energetic realization of self-existence that is 
acquired by profound reflection upon the nature and 
causes of our being. The difference between them is one 
of degree alone. It consists in the greater degree of 
Attention (from the Latin ad, toward, and tendere, to 
stretch), or concentration of consciousness, with which 
Reflectiye Self -consciousness is accompanied. 

Attention is sometimes treated by writers on Psychology as if it 
were a special intellectual faculty. It is simply a concentration of 
consciousness upon a particular object. It is caused either by some 
powerful external stimulation of interest, in which case it is invol- 
untary ; orlby some personal volition, in which case it is voluntary. 
In every case, it is the result of something wholly external to the 
soul, or of an exercise of Will, or of a habit produced by one or the 
other of these causes. The treatment of this topic, therefore, falls 
most naturally under the third part of our division of Psychology, 
as a mode of action connected with the Will. 



7. Origin of Reflective Self-consciousness. 

The higher form of Self-consciousness is developed by 
the reflective use of the intellectual powers. It is seldom 
found in the very young, and always when found in them 
indicates an abnormal condition. The acquisition of ma- 
terials for reflection is the first natural step in the progress 
of development. Eeflection ought then to follow. If it 
follows too early, the soul '^ feeds upon itself," producing 
an abnormal result. Though liable to abuse, it is the 
necessary attainment of the philosopher and the man of 
science, and is cultivated by close self-examination and 
self-analysis. 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 21 

8. Normal Forms of Reflective Self-consciousness. 

There are two forms of Eeflective Self-consciousness 
that are entirely normal and exceedingly useful. They 
are : 

(1) The Philosophical, which impels the Intellect to 
observe closely, compare widely and seek diligently for 
causes and principles. It seems to be the peculiar posses- 
sion of great men, who differ from common men not so 
much in the special brilliancy of any one faculty as in the 
urgency of mind by which they are impelled to great dis- 
coveries or enterprises. 

(2) The Ethical, which habitually compares self with 
a moral standard, with a view to self -improvement. Noah 
Poptep (1811- ), an American metaphysician, says : 
" Christianity has trained the Intellect of the human race 
to this activity, and hence has been so efficient in educat- 
ing and elevating the masses of men, even where it has 
furnished little formal intellectual culture.'^ ^ 



9. Abnormal Forms of Reflective Self - conscious- 
ness. 

There are several forms of Eeflective Self-consciousness 
that are unquestionably abnormal. They are as follows : 

(1) The Precocious form is manifested in some chil- 
dren in whom the subjective life has too early come to 
dominate over the objective. The natural sphere of men- 
tal activity for a child is that of his perceptions. He 
should be chiefly interested in the objects around him, 
not in himself. The perfectly normal child is largely 
occupied with the outer -yvorld, 



22 PSYCHOLOGY. 

For this there is a physical, as well as a psychical reason. The 
brain and nervous system increase in size rapidly until about the 
seventh year. After this the brain increases but little in size, but 
the osseous and muscular systems increase rapidly, until full growth 
is attained. This time of growth is the period for the co-ordination 
of the nervous and muscular systems with the outer world. If it is 
not made then, the difficulty increases later on. If too much reflec- 
tion is required, the delicate brain is too severely taxed before it has 
attained its maximum of power and the free activities necessary to 
what may be called " terminal," as distinguished from "central," 
growth are rendered impossible. 

(2) The Egotistic form consists in an unnatural interest 
in self and a nervous anxiety about one^s appearance or 
reputation or the impression one is making. It causes 
one to blush if lie is noticed^ and to be sulky if lie is over- 
looked. It leads to affectation in society and thought and 
often results in positive unhappiness. 

(3) The Hypochondpiacal form is usually the product of 
some chronic disease which leads the patient to be always 
thinking of his own sensations and always imagining that 
they are to become worse, without hope of betterment. 
People thus afflicted exaggerate their own sufferings and 
are sometimes confirmed in their abnormal states by sym- 
pathetic friends who encourage their delusions. Hypo- 
chondria is often ISTature^s penalty for inordinate self- 
ishness. 

10. The Relation of Self-consciousness to Educa- 
tion. 

Education is the unfolding, or drawing out, of innate 
powers, while training is the impressing of another^s will 
upon the activities of the being trained. The lower ani- 
mals may be trained, but they cannot be educated, We 



PBESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE, 23 

can compel them to do our will^ but we cannot draw out 
powers which they do not possess, or develop powers 
within them to whose production they do not conspire. 
The first condition of education, in any high sense, is the 
existence of a Self-consciousness that will respond to our 
efforts to develop latent powers. Nothing can be educated 
that cannot say, "I" Nothing is beyond the hope of 
education that can say, "I ivill try.'' Every thing pivots 
upon this realization of self. Laura Bridgman ^ could be 
educated, though she was blind and deaf. She could say, 
^'1" not orally, for she was dumb, but mentally. She 
could respond to intelligent communications through the 
sense of touch alone, because she possessed self-conscious 
intelligence. No motives to learn, except physical mo- 
tives, can be offered to a being who does not know that he 
belongs to a higher order. The human child becomes 
educable when he arrives at the knowledge of himself as 
self-conscious. Prior to that, he is susceptible of training, 
but not of education. 

In this section, on ** Self-consciousness," we have 
considered :— 

1, Self-consciousness Defined, 

2, Hume's Denial of Self-consciousness, 

3, Mill on Self-consciousness. 

4, Spencer's Denial of Immediate Self-conscious- 



5. The Continuity of Self- consciousness. 

6. Two Forms of Self-consciousness, 

7. Origin of Meflective Self -consciousness. 

S, Normal Forms of Heflective Self -consciousness. 
9. Abnormal Forms of Reflective Self-conscious- 
ness, 
10, The Melation of Self -consciousness to Education, 



24 PSYCHOLOGY. 

References : (1) Hume's Treatise of Human Nature, p. 321. 
(2) Mill's Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, I., 
pp. 260, 262. (3) Bowne's Introduction to Psychological Theory, p. 13. 
(4) Spencer's Principles of Psychology, Part II., Chap. I. (5) Por- 
ter's Human Intellect, p. 106. (6) For an account of Laura Bridg- 
man, see her Life, by Mary Smith Lamson ; for a shorter, but very 
good, account, see the article by G. Stanley Hall, in Mind, reprinted 
in his Aspects of German Culture, pp. 237, 276. 



SECTIOIT 11. 

SENSE-PERCEPTION. 

1. Sense-perception Defined. 

Sense-perception is the soul's knowledge of material 
objects. The word " perception " (from the Latin per, 
through, and caphe, to take, implying a taking through 
an organ of sense) is used to designate a power, an act, and 
even an object. Thus we say, '' The soul has percep- 
tion," where we mean that the soul has power of percep- 
tion. Again, w*e say, " My perception of that sound is 
not acute,'' where we understand the particular act of 
perception. Finally, we say, ^^ Do you recall the percep- 
tions you had during your walk ? " where the reference is 
to certain objects perceived. 

The analysis of Sense-perception is difficult on account of the 
complex character of an act of perception and the psycho-physical 
relations involved. Every perception is accompanied with some de- 
gree of sensation, which, as mere feeling and not knowledge, must 
be separated in the analysis from the perception itself. Previous 
perceptions, revived through the representative power, are always 
blending themselves with present perceptions. Acts of judgment 
also are mingled with what we take for pure perceptions in a man- 



PBESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE, 25 

ner almost incredible until the fact is demonstrated. But the prin- 
cipal difficulty, and one that has given rise to more discussion than 
any other single problem of Psychology, is the discovery of the line 
of separation between the functions of the sense-organs and the 
powers of the soul. 

2. The Two Elements in Sense-perception. 

There are two elements in an act of Sense-perception. 
The first is the act of perception proper, by which the 
external object is known. The second is the state of the 
soul in performing the act of perception and is called a 
sensation. The first belongs to the sphere of Intellect, 
the second to the sphere of Sensibility. 

(1) Perception proper has the following characteristics : 

(a) It is an act of knowledge. 

(i) It gives kno^\iledge of a non-Ego. 

(c) It gives knowledge of a space-occupging non-Ego. 

(2) Sensation proper has the following characteristics: 

(a) It is a state of the soul. 

(b) It is a form of feeling connected with the bodily 
organism. 

(c) It is a feeling that may be localized in the organism. 

As an example of Sense-perception, involving these two 
elements, take the case of knowing an object, say a knife, 
by touch. There is the perception of tohat the object is, 
and it is known as not-Self, and as occupying a certain 
limited and defined space. But certain states of feeling 
are likewise induced. I feel the sharp edge of the blade 
on my thumb and localize there a sensation, at first indif- 
ferent, but, as I press harder against the edge, becoming 



26 PSYCHOLOGY. 

painful. We have, then, hnoicledge and feeling, but the 
knowledge is acquired through the feeling. 

Hamilton traces back the history of this distinction through 
Reid and others to Plotinus (205-270), a Neo-Platonic philosopher 
of Alexandria. Hamilton considers E-eid's account of the distinc- 
tion as wanting in precision and gives a restatement of his own. He 
also lays down the following law : *' Knowledge and feeling, — per- 
ception and sensation, — though always co-existent, are always in 
the inverse ratio of each other." He adds: " Above a certain limit, 
perception declines, in proportion as sensation rises. Thus, in the 
sense of sight, if the impression be strong, we are dazzled, blinded, 
and consciousness is limited to the pain or pleasure of the sensation, 
in the intensity of which perception is lost." ^ 

3. The Conditions of Sense-perception. 

Sense-perception takes place only under the following 
conditions : (1) There must be a nervous organism, adapt- 
ed to receiving and conveying impfessions ; (2) there 
must be some external excitant, capable of furnishing an 
impression ; (3) there must be an actual excitation of the 
organism by the excitant. 

(1) The nervous organism in man consists of the sym- 
pathetic and the cerebro-spinal systems. With the former 
we are not at present concerned. The cerebro-spinal 
system consists of the brain (see Figures 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 
and 7, at the end of the text), the" medulla oblongata (see 
Figures 2 and 7), and the spinal cord (see Figures 1, 2, 
and 3), with their attachments (see Figures 1, 2, and 3) 
and ramifications in the sense-organs (see Figures 8 to 17). 
This organism is composed of two kinds of matter, {a) the 
gray, which is cellular and is supposed to be the source of 
nervous energy (see Figure 8, ^) ; and {b) the white, which 
is fibrous and furnishes lines for the transmission of nerv^ 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 27 

ous currents (see Figure 8, B). Considering the whole as 
a telegraphic system, the gray matter takes the place of 
batteries and the white matter that of wires. The con- 
ducting fibres are grouped in fasciculi, or bundles, in the 
manner of a cable. They are all adapted to the transmis- 
sion of impressions, but not all in the same direction. 
The afferent (from the Latin ad, to, and/erre, to bear), or 
sensor, nerves are so placed as to receive impressions from 
the outer world, which they convey inward to the brain. 
The efferent (from the Latin e, out, and ferre, to bear), 
or motor, nerves are so placed as to convey impulses out- 
ward from the brain to the muscles to which they are 
attached. 

The localization of special functions in the brain is an inter- 
esting, but still an open, question. A celebrated Scotch physiolo- 
gist, David Ferriep (1843- ), has attempted, in his great work on 
" The Functions of the Brain," to demonstrate, by means of experi- 
ments made on lower animals, that certain particular regions of the 
brain are devoted to the performance of certain particular functions. 
These are divided into sensor centres and motor centres. The sensor 
centres each receive particular kinds of impressions. There are the 
auditory, or hearing, centre ; the visual, or seeing, centre ; the gust- 
atory, or tasting, centre ; the olfactory, or smelling, centre ; and the 
tactual, or touching, centre. In a similar manner the motor cen- 
tres are divided. It is probably true, that, in a general sense, there 
are such particular centres, though the imaginary distribution of 
them employed in the pseudo-science of Phrenology cannot be sus- 
tained on scientific ground and the experimental distribution at- 
tempted by Ferrier is not universally admitted. Every theory of 
localization of function has been denied by the English physiologist 
and writer, George Henry Lewes (1817-1878), who says: "The 
physiological properties of the nervous system are inseparable from 
every segment of that system ; and the functions are the manifesta- 
tion of those properties as determined by the special organs with the 
eo-operatjon of all."^ Perhaps a higher authority is the Grerman 



28 PSYCHOLOGY. 

experimenter, Goltz, who has concluded, on the basis of experiment, 
that "The hypothesis of circumscribed centres subserving special 
functions in the cerebral cortex is untenable. "^ George Groom 
Robertson (1842- ), the editor of the English psychological quar- 
terly, "Mind," says, in reviewing the claims of the rival experi- 
menters: " Goltz's conception of the intricate constitution and work- 
ing of the brain, so far as he has yet shadowed it forth, must be said 
to come much nearer [than that of Ferrier] to meeting the require- 
ments which psychology would make of physiology ; and, so long as 
such facts can be produced as Goltz has recorded in his memoirs, it 
is hard to believe that Ferrier rightly interprets the different facts 
which he on his side may now be allowed to have established."* 

(2) If there were no external excitants, the nervous 
organism would receive no impressions to transmit. The 
outer world, however, is a system of forces that continually 
act upon the sensor nerves. The waves of light, during a 
large part of every day, do not cease to beat upon the eye, 
whose thin protecting covering, even when closed, does 
not effectually exclude the luminous flood. The undula- 
tions of the air are even more obtrusive and pour them- 
selves incessantly upon the ear, ebbing a little only for a 
few hours in the night. Odors, savory and unsavory, per- 
meate the air and compel the nostril to inhale them. 
Surfaces surround us everywhere, some of which the force 
of gravity compels us to rest upon, giving us incessant 
experiences of hardness or softness, roughness or smooth- 
ness. These external excitants, then, furnish the phys- 
ical stimulus. 

The science of Physics has shown that the so-called material 
world is a world of motion. Keduced to its one fundamental 
characteristic, the physical world reveals itself through vibration. 
" If we imagine a machine so constructed as to be able to impress 
on a rod of metal vibrations of every degree of rapidity, we can set 
forth an imaginary gradation in the sensory responses. Thus, in a 



PRESENTATIYE KNOWLEDGE. 29 

darkened room, the rod begins oscillating and we feel its impacts on 
our skin as so many gentle taps ; when the vibrations of the air thus 
excited become sufficiently numerous, we feel them as pulses, which 
we hear as puffs. When these puffs reach a rapidity of 16 in the 
second, they pass into the deepest bass tone. Here begin the specific 
responses of tone ; and they will run through the whole musical 
gamut as the vibrations increase in quantity, the tones becoming 
shriller and shriller (but not louder) until the vibrations amount to 
36,000 in a second. Then all again is silence. The vibrations may 
increase and increase, but this increase brings with it no sound. It 
may be that here, or somewhere about this limit, the molecules of 
the air suddenly cease to move ; they have reached their limit of 
oscillation ; and any fresh impulse will move the air in a mass, but 
not move it in waves. Besides the air, however, there is ether, and 
this takes up the motion of the rod. At first, the ethereal pulses are 
not powerful enough to move the comparatively heavy molecules of 
a sensor nerve : for such an effect a greater rapidity is requisite, and 
when this reaches 18 millions in a second, the sensor nerves of the 
skin respond in what is known as a sensation of warmth. The leap 
from 36,000 vibrations of air to 18 million vibrations of ether, is the 
leap from sound to heat. The rod continues its acceleration, and 
when it reaches 462 billion vibrations in a second, then only is it 
luminous. The sensation of heat disappears, giving place to that of 
light, — that is, to red rays. The rays pass from red to yellow when 
the vibrations reach 540 billion, to green when they reach 582 billion, 
and to violet when they reach 733 billion in a second. Such at 
least are the verdicts of the calculus. Then all is darkness.''' ^ And 
yet we know, from chemical reactions, that still more rapid vibra- 
tions exist. 

(3) Of the innumerable excitants about us only those 
which cause actual excitation of the organism produce 
either sensations or perceptions within us. Whenever, by 
any cause, a special . set of nerves is paralyzed, the excit- 
ants that operate through the paralyzed set of nerves can- 
not affect the organism. Blindness is such a condition of 
the optic nerves. Thus a whole sphere of knowledge is 
shut out from the consciousness of the blind. There is 



30 PSYCHOLOGY. 

evidently necessary, then, in addition to tlie presence of 
external excitants, a physiological stimulus* This is 
furnished by the nervous system. 

We are surrounded with an invisible universe, which can be 
mathematically proved to exist and into which we sometimes obtain 
glimpses through the telescope and the microscope, but which no 
instrument of precision can fathom. The fixed stars are so distant 
that the largest telescope does not affect their magnitude and no 
microscope has enabled us to see a thought. Sensation and percep- 
tion are evidently conditioned upon the adjustment of our sense- 
organs to the objective world. Many of the lower animals show a 
far finer adjustment than man can boast. It is evident also that 
men vary in their delicacy of adjustment to the external world. The 
phenomena of Clairvoyance, so far as they can be proved real and 
not apochryphal stories, find their scientific explanation in the ex- 
traordinary delicacy of adjustment to external conditions. We can 
place no strictly scientific limit to the range of perception. It is, 
however, highly probable that all communications are to be ex- 
plained in the same way and consist in the transmission of impres- 
sions through the nervous system. The hypothesis of modern 
Spiritism, usually accompanied with the motives and machinery of 
trickery and deception, which refers unusual power of perception to 
the revelation of spiritual agents, is wholly unscientific and unworthy 
of credence. Such phenomena as the transference of thought at a 
distance, mind-reading and kindred subjects ate undergoing in- 
vestigation by a Society for Psychical Research foriipied for the 
purpose of extending our knowledge of the extraordinary in psychi- 
cal experiences. Whatever may be found true with regard to the 
exceptional, and often wholly imaginary, conditions of knowledge, 
it will not essentially affect what is more certainly determined.^ 

4. Abnormal Excitation, 

The nervous organism, as a part of the corporeal sys- 
tem, is liable to disease. Mechanical rupture, chemical 
disorganization, poisonous constituents in the blood, or 
defective nourishment, may readily derange the transmit- 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 31 

ting power of a nerve or set of nerves, and thus either 
destroy or vitiate all communications through them. 
Fever has a powerful disintegrating tendency and often 
fills the sufferer with abnormal excitations amounting to 
that complete confusion of sense-impressions called d6- 
lirium. Visions;, epileptic fits, and insanity are results of 
abnormal excitation of the nervous organism. It is a~ 
noteworthy fact, as affording some explanation of these 
phenomena, that, if a nerve be irritated in any unnatural 
way, it will still convey an impression of its own peculiar 
kind. Thus, an electric current in the optic nerve pro- 
duces a flash of light and in the auditory nerve a sound. 
This is called the idiopathy of the nerves (from the Greek, 
Idto^, idios, same, and -rradog, patJios, suffering). It is also 
expressed as the specific energy of the nerves. 

The doctrine of the specific energy of nerves has been generally 
accepted since the time of the great German physiologist, J. IVIuller 
(1801-1858), and is still held by the German physicist, H. L. F. 
Helmholtz (1821- ), to be of extraordinary importance to the 
theory of perception. It is, however, rejected by Lewes, who says : 
"The specific sensation, or movement, which results from stimula- 
tion of a nerve depends not on the nerve, but on the mechanism of 
which the nerve is one element.'"' Hermann Lotze (1817-1881), a 
distinguished German psychologist, denies the specific energies of 
the nerves, holding that specific energies would imply specific struc- 
tures, of which we know nothing. He says : "We merely know that 
the stimulus of light, impact and pressure, the passage of a current 
of electricity through the eye, awaken the sensation of light ; and 
perhaps that impact and electricity produce also the sensation of 
sound ; and the latter also the sensation of taste. Now a motion of 
the ponderable parts by means of impact can scarcely take place in 
the tense eye-ball without a part of this motion being also converted 
into motions of the ether that exists in th*e eye, and so producing a 
motion of light, which acts as adequate stimulus upon the nerve of 
sight in precisely the same way as if it came from without. Just so 



32 PSYCHOLOGY. 

the imparted shocks may be changed into oscillations of the tense 
parts and membranes, which are then normal stimuli for the nerve 
of hearing just as well as are the acoustic waves that come from 
without. Finally, it is quite certain that the electrical current ex- 
cites chemical decomposition of the fluids of the mouth, and that the 
adequate stimulus for the nerve of taste consists in this directly." ^ 

5. Definition of a Sense and a Sense-organ. 

A sense is a power of the soul to know a particular class 
of external impressions. A sense-organ is a part of the 
terminal apparatus of the nervous organism that furnishes 
the soul with some impression in an act of Sense-percep- 
tion. The word " sense " is often used to signify general 
intelligence, as when we say, ^' That is a man of sense/' 

It is important to remember that a sense is a psychical power 
while a sense-organ is a physiological part. It is not the eye that 
sees nor the ear that hears, nor is it the brain. It is the self- 
conscious Ugo. /both see and hear, with the aid of my sense-organs 
as instruments. An eye-glass or an ear-trumpet is sometimes neces- 
sary to supplement the natural organ. The organic instruments no 
more do the seeing and hearing than do these artificial aids. They 
are simply essential helps in the process of Sense-perception. 

6. Classification of the Senses. 

The following classification of the senses is the most 
satisfactory : 

(1) The Muscular Sense has for its organs nerves dis- 
tributed to the muscles, which furnish such sensations as 
those of motion, resistance, weariness, excess of energy, 
etc. The sensations thus derived are of two classes : (a) 
Sensations of free movement; and (b) Sensations of im- 
peded movement. 

(2) The Organic Sense has for its organs nerves dis- 



PRES^nTATlVl! KNOWLEDGE. 33 

tributed to the various bodily organs, furnishing sensa- 
tions, readily distinguished from the muscular sensations, 
indicative of the organic condition of health and giving 
notice of disease in the organs by sensations of pain or 
uneasiness. 

(3) The Special Senses are five in number and are 
called '^ special ^^ because each has a special organ furnish- 
ing the most important elements of Sense-perception. 
They are Touch, Smell, Taste, Hearing, and Sight. It is 
with these five special senses that we have mainly to deal 
in discussing Sense-perception. 

Another classification of the senses, based upon the mode in 
which the sense-organs are stimulated, has been given, as follows: 

Molar or Dynamical senses \ Tactile-Toucb. 

( Acoustic— Hearing. 

Molecular or Chemical senses \ ?^!^S?~'^„^^*®- 

( Catalytic— Smell. 

Intermolecular or Etheric senses \ Thermic-Temperature. 

( Photic— Sight 

The sensations of touch and of temperature are, indeed, different, 
but they are received through the same general organs. 

Regarding the completeness of the human senses, as related to 
external nature, no certainty can ever be attained ; for, if there are 
agencies in nature other than those which now produce sensations 
within us, it is impossible to prove their existence, unless our organ- 
ization were so changed as to enable us to perceive them. '* It is, 
however, as unphilosophical to suggest a limit to the number of modes 
of action of the common force of nature as it is to assume the exist- 
ence of such modes as we cannot possibly establish by proof ; for we 
cannot deny the existence of other modes of action of the force of 
nature than those revealed by our present senses." 

7. The Special Senses. 

(1) Touch. — The tactual sense has its organ in the 
skin (see Figure 9). This is filled with minute papillae, 



34 P^TcMOLOaT, 

placed beneath the cutis and enclosing the terminations 
of fine filaments of nerve (see Figures 9 and 10). Differ- 
ent parts of the skin vary in sensibility. The sensory 
circles, or areas limited by the ability to distinguish the 
two points of a pair of dividers, range from four one-hun- 
dredths of an inch to over two and a half inches in diam- 
eter. There are five classes of distinguishable sensations 
of touch : (a) those of gentle touch, as when a finger is 
laid softly on a smooth surface ; (Z>) those of acute pain, as 
when a sharp point is touched; {c) those of temperature, as 
when the hand is placed on a hot surface ; {d) those of 
pressure, as when a light weight is laid on the surface ; 
and (e) those of reaction, as when we feel that a little 
more or a little less force must be used to hold or balance 
an object. The last two are combinations with muscular 
sensations. All tactile sensations are referred to the sur- 
face of the body and are assigned location in space. 

The extent of sensory circles was first determined in 1835 by a 
German physiologist, E. H. Weber, who has been followed by other 
experimenters. The method is to take a pair of blunt-pointed di- 
viders and apply the points to the skin of another person in different 
places, bringing the points together till there seems to be but 07ie 
sensation. The distance of the points from each other is then re- 
corded. The individual variation is very great. The following is a 
comparative table based on the most carefully compiled results : 

Tongue-tip 1.1mm. (.04 inch) 

Palm side of last phalanx of finger. 2.2 mm. (.08 inch) 

Red part oif lips 4.4 mm. (.16 inch) 

Tip of nose 6.6 mm. (.24 inch) 

Back of second phalanx of finger 11.0 mm. (.44 inch) 

Heel 22.0 mm. (.88 inch) 

Back of hand ." 30.8 mm. (1.23 inches) 

Forearm 39.6 mm. (1.58 inches) 

Stemmn 44.0 mm. (1.76 inches) 

Backofneck 52.8mm. (2.11 inches) 

Middle of back 66.0 mm. (2.64 inches) 



PMs:EJJSrTAfIVJE KNOWLEDGE. 35 

The explanation of Weber's sensory circles has given rise to 
much discussion. He himself held that each circle is supplied by- 
owe nerve-fibre. Other experiments have shown that pressure-spots 
are recognizable within a circle. George T. Ladd (1842- ), an 
American psychologist, concludes, "The sensations produced by 
laying a single blunted divider's point upon the skin, are really very 
complex, and are composed of the sensations from several pressure- 
spots blended with other sensations from the rest of the same area 
not covered by the pressure-spots. The fineness of the discrimina- 
tion possible in any area of the skin depends, then, upon how all the 
points irritated stand related to the specific pressure-spots."^ 

The Greek philosopher, Democritus (B. C. 460-357), taught that 
touch is the primary and original sense, out of which the other 
senses are developed. There is much to render this idea probable. 
The lowest forms of nervous organism respond only to the stimuli of 
direct contact. Some of these lower forms are thought to respond 
to differences of color, which are probably not known as such, but 
still are felt as different. Touch always remains the test sense to 
which we resort in cases of doubt. We recognize the ease with 
which the ear and the eye are deceived, but feel confident of the real 
presence of an object when we can touch it and of its illusory char- 
acter when we cannot. 

(2) Smell. — The organ of the olfactory sense is the 
nostrils, which afford a surface covered by a sensitive mu- 
cous membrane for the reception of odorous particles (see 
Figure 11). Smell is believed to be excited only by con- 
tact with a gaseous substance. The sensations are local- 
ized in the nose and are referred to its interior surface. 
They are commonly named from the names of the objects 
that excite them. 

*' The amount of a substance which we are enabled to recognize 
by the organ of smell is extraordinarily small. The merest trace, in 
a gaseous form, of a drop of oil of roses is all that is necessary to 
produce in our nostrils the impression of a pleasant odor. The 
smallest particle of musk is sufiicient to impart its characteristic 
smell to the clothes for years, the strongest current of air being in- 



S6 PsTomLoar, 

sufficient to drive it away; and Valentin has calculated that we ar6, 
able to perceive about the three one-millionth of a grain of musk. 
The delicacy of our sense of smell surpasses that of the other senses. 
The minute particles of a substance which we perceive by smell, 
would be quite imperceptible to our taste, and if they were in a solid 
form, we should never be able to feel them, nor to see them, even if 
illuminated by the strongest sunlight. No chemical reaction can 
detect such minute particles of substance as those which we perceive 
by our sense of smell, and even spectrum analysis, which can recog-* 
nize fifteen millionths of a grain, is far surpassed in delicacy by our 
organ of smell. 

"The development of the sense of smell is even more astonish- 
ing in animals than it is in man, and plays a very important part 
in their organization. Hounds will recognize by smell the trace of 
an animal perfectly imperceptible to sight. But the acuteness of 
their sense of smell is far surpassed by that of the animal pursued, 
which is able, when the wind is in a favorable direction, to scent the 
huntsman at a distance of several miles." ^° 

(3) Taste. — The organs of taste are the tongue, the 
palate, and a portion of the pharynx (see Figure 2). These 
organs contain minute terminal taste buds (see Figure 12), 
which are distributed with varying degrees of closeness to 
one another near their surfaces. The tongue and other 
parts serving as organs of taste are also organs of touch. 
Substances must be in liquid form, in order to be tasted. 
We generally name tastes, as we do smells, from the ob- 
jects that furnish them. We localize sensations of taste 
in the mouth and so attribute to them extension in space. 

•' The sensitiveness of our gustatory organs for certain sub- 
stances is very considerable, but not to be compared to that of smell. 
We can recognize by taste a solution of one part of sulphuric acid in 
1,000 of water. A drop placed upon the tongue would contain about 
one two-thousandth of a gramme (three four-hu*ndredths of a grain) 
of sulphuric acid, an infinitesimally small quantity, the detection of 
which by chemical analysis would be difficult." " 



PBESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 37 

(4) Hearing. — The organ of the auditory sense is the 
ear, including the corrugated receptacle of the external 
ear and the vibrating tympanum, series of percussive 
bones and undulating liquid of the inner ear (see Figure 
13). Sensations of sound are very numerous and are at- 
tended with perceptions of position and distance. These, 
however, are not immediately given with exactness, but 
are determined by experience and afford a large oppor- 
tunity for error. Sensations of sound are the basis of 
music and of articulate speech, which last is a human 
characteristic. 

Closely connected with the phenomena of sound are the rods of 
CortI, so called from the name of their discoverer- (see Figure 14). 
They are situated in the coil of the cochlea (see Figure 13). They 
number about 3,000. The rods, or fibres, are not of uniform size or 
shape, and they remind one of the strings of a piano. The cochlea 
is thus provided with a "sympathetic vibratory apparatus for the 
perception of musical sensation," each fibre transmitting its peculiar 
tone. It is probably through this dehcate organ of Corti that we are 
able to distinguish the fine shades of musical tone. 

(5) Sight. — The organ of the visual sense is the eye 
(see Figure 15). The image of the object seen is thrown 
upon the retina (see Figure 15, rr), but vision does not 
take place there. There are two images, one in each eye, 
and they are inverted^ which starts the question, How do 
we see one object and see it upright 9 Impressions are 
supposed to be conveyed through the intricate mechanism 
of the retina (see Figure, on) and the optic nerve of each 
eye (see Figure 15, 16, and Figure 17, w), the optic nerves 
crossing in the commisure (see Figure 17, oc) and con- 
tinuing to the brain, where perception takes place. The 
object of vision has the following characteristics : 



38 PSYCHOLOGY. 

(a) It is extended; 

(h) It has only superficial extension ; 

(c) It is colored {i. e., shaded)^ often variegated. 

That the image should appear extended is not difficult to account 
for, because the impressions are probably delivered to the brain side 
by side, and so really extended, although in an area much smaller 
than the image on the retina. That the mode of extension is in two 
dimensions, or only superficial, instead of in three dimensions, or 
having depth as well as area, is regarded as certain from experiments 
made on those restored from blindness. The English physician, 
Cheselden (1688-1752), gave sight to a young patient of twenty 
years by an operation for cataract. The moment the patient saw, 
everything appciired to him upon a plane surface. His subsequent 
experiences, and those of other patients, show that the idea of depth, 
or of the third dimension in space, is derived by experience with the 
aid of movement and the sense of touch. Binocular vision, or vision 
with two eyes, is sometimes appealed to, to show that we know depth 
by sight alone, but the stereoscopic pictures, which give the same 
result as binocular vision of natural objects, are upon a perfectly 
plane surface. 

There has been much speculation upon the cause of color in our 
optical experience. The following is the Young-Helmholtz theory, 
so called because invented by Thomas Young (1773-1829), an Eng- 
lish physicist, and developed by the German physicist, Helmholtz. 
It may be stated as follows : " Let us suppose, for example, a nerve- 
fibre to terminate in a cone (see Figure 16, rod and cone layer, 9) 
which, through its physical or chemical constitution, is only affected 
by red rays of light ; then this nerve-fibre will transmit the irrita- 
tion to the brain, and the brain thus receives an intimation that the 
impression has been made by a certain kind of light, which is recog- 
nized as red. Let us also suppose the same cone to be connected 
with another nerve-fibre, the end of which can be irritated only by a 
green ray, then the brain, if the irritation of this nerve-fibre has 
been conveyed to it, becomes conscious of the presence of a different 
kind of light, which, from experience, it will call green. We can 
thus picture to ourselves the existence of several kinds of nerve- 
fibres in the optic nerve, which differ from each other only in their 
terminal organs within the rods and cones, each of which can be 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 39 

irritated by a particular kind of light alone. At first it would be 
supposed that a vast number of fibres must exist in a sensitive ele- 
ment of the retina. 

*' It would be a great temptation to claim for every color in the 
spectrum a separate nerve-fibre ; but it is quite suificient if we reduce 
the number of fibres to three, in accordance with the number of 
primary colors, red, green, and violet. In fact, all the phenomena 
of the sensation of color may be perfectly explained on the supposi- 
tion that, in each point of the retina, three kinds of nerve-fibres 
terminate, one of which is sensitive to red, another to green, and the 
ihivdi to violet.'' '^^ 

Now suppose that the fibres sensitive to red are without the 
peculiar quality that renders them sensitive. Then the person in 
whose eye there is this deficiency will be blind to this color and we 
have a case of color-blindness, lately proved to be very common, 
almost one in twenty persons showing an incapacity to distinguish 
red colors distinctly. What looks to others white, must to them 
have a greenish-blue appearance. There are degrees of color-blind- 
ness, an incapacity for shades of the color. This peculiarity is called 
also Daltonism from the name of the English chemist, John Dalton 
(1766-1844), who discovered the existence of color-blindness by find- 
ing in himself an incapacity to distinguish the red coats of soldiers 
on parade from the green color of the grass. 

8. The Knowledge Olbtained by the Special Senses. 

Having reviewed the various special senses and con- 
sidered the organs through which knowledge is furnished, 
we now need to inquire what knowledge is furnished by 
them. Let us, then, apply our sense-organs to some 
simple object, an orange, for example. 

(1) By Touch we know the orange to possess {a) resist- 
ance in a degree which we name hardness or softness; 
(b) surface, which we characterize as rough or smooth; 
and (c) extension, which by movement we learn to be in 
three dimensions, and describe as spherical. 

(2) By Smell we obtain a pleasant and pungent odor, 



40 PSYCHOLOGY, 

and from this sense we can derive no other knowledge 
except the distribution of this odor in space, it being 
more or less intense as we bring the orange near or re- 
move it from us. 

(3) By Taste we derive two forms of knowledge : (a) 
the flavor of the orange, which is the appropriate pres- 
entation of Taste ; and (i) touch, which is not special to 
this sense and has been considered above. 

(4) By Hearing we can obtain ys^riou^ sounds, as the 
orange is variously struck or allowed to fall from different 
heights, and we can, in part, locate the orange by the 
sounds. 

(5) Finally, by Sight we perceive colored extension, but 
the presentation does not agree with that of Touch ; for 
the orange does not present a sphere, but a circle, to the 
eye. We correct this by taking a new point of view and 
the disagreement is then resolved into agreement. We 
distinguish also by Sight C07itrasts of color, as light and 
shade. 8ize is perceived, but it is merely relative, and to 
know it positively we must also know the distance of the 
object from the observer. 

When we consider that all sense-impressions are simply move- 
ments of matter in space, and that the nervous organism is itself 
simply an aggregate of material molecules, and then contrast with 
these the knowledge acquired through Sense-perception, it is evident 
that there is between sense-impression and sense-knowledge a 
great interval. This has been generally recognized by the greatest 
thinkers. The English physicist, John Tyndall (1830- ), says : 
" The passage from the physics of the brain to the corresponding 
facts of consciousness is unthinJcable.^^ ^^ The English anatomist and 
biologist, Thomas Henry Huxley (1825- ), observes : " How it is 
that anything so remarkable as a state of consciousness comes about 
by the result of irritating nervous tissue, is just as unaccountable as 
the appearance of the Djin when Aladdin rubbed his lamp." ^* The 



PRESENTATIYE KNOWLEDGE. 41 

German physiologist, Du-Bois Reymond (1818- ), says : "If we 
possessed an absolutely perfect knowledge of the body, including the 
brain and all changes in it, the psychical state known as sensation 
would be as incomprehensible as now. For the very highest knowl- 
edge we could get would reveal to us only matter in motion, and the 
connection between any motions of any atoms in my brain, and such 
unique, undeniable facts as that I feel pain, smell a rose, or see red, 
is thoroughly incomprehensible.'" ^^ 

9. What do we Perceive? 

Sense-perception affords us (1) separate and different 
sensations, (2) conditioned upon physiological stimuli 
within the organism and physical stimuli outside of the 
organism. The sensations themselves are not the object 
of perception, but something beyond them is. Sensations 
^re psychical facts, subjective, evanescent, and successive. 
Objects perceived are physical realities, objective, per- 
manent, and co-existent in space. If the sensor nerves of 
any special sense are cut, we can perceive nothing beyond 
the point of section. If these nerves are excited at any 
point between their termini in the sense-organ and their 
termini in the brain, we do perceive something. This 
proves that perception occurs in the brain. What do we 
perceive in the brain ? A series of changes in the nervous 
organism, which we refer to permanent causes outside of 
the organism . In order that Sense-perception shall occur, 
two conditions must be fulfilled : (1) something in the 
brain must react on the sense-impressions ; and (2) some- 
thing in the brain must refer these impressions to external 
space, or project them outward and unify them. With 
regard to the certainty of our knowledge of what we per- 
ceive, it must be said that we have an immediate knowl- 
edge of the non-Ego as shown in the Primary Alfirma- 



42 PSYCHOLOGY. 

tion of Co-existence. The doctrine here maintained is 
known as Dualistic Realism. 

Many philosophers have distinguished between what they call the 
Primary and the Secondary Qualities of Matter, or of bodies. This 
is a mental distinction based on what is universal and what is only 
occasional in our experience of bodies. The primary qualities are 
those which are universal, as resistance and extension. The second- 
ary qualities are those affecting the particular senses in varying 
ways, as smell, taste, sound, and color. The distinctions are very 
elaborately treated by Hamilton, from an historical point of view, in 
his "Lectures on Metaphysics," pp. 342, 347. 

10. What is It that Perceives? 

We have seen that, in order that Sense-perception shall 
occur, two conditions must be fulfilled : (1) Something in 
the brain must react on the sense-impressions ; and (2) 
something in the brain must refer these impressions to ex- 
ternal space and unify them. Consciousness discloses to 
us what it is that does this. It is the conscious self. / 
feel sensations and distinguish between the successive 
changes in the nervous organism. / react on the brain, 
and when I do not thus consciously react, as in sleep or 
swoon or during a moment of absorption in other things, 
there is no sensation and there is no perception of the im- 
pressions not reacted upon. / also project impressions in 
space, or assign them locality. I consciously judge of the 
distance of a horse in a field or of the direction of a voice 
calling. Sense-knowledge, then, is not a product of or- 
ganic action, but of physical and physiological stimula- 
tion accompanied with psychical reaction. This reaction 
is, to consciousness, interpretation, and, accordingly, we 
continue our discussion of Sense-perception in the next 
Section on ^^ Sense-interpretation.^^ 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 43 

For illustration of this topic, let us recur to our experiment with 
the orange. Each of the five senses furnished us with distinct 
classes of impressions, which we were obliged to refer to causes 
acting outside of ourselves and located in or upon the body with 
which we were experimenting, the orange. "Without the reaction of 
our Sensibility upon the orange, we should have felt nothing. With- 
out the reaction of our Intellect upon the orange, we should have 
known nothing. The sensations we derived from it had to be inter- 
preted and unified, before we had any idea of an object possessing 
such qualities as we discovered in the orange. This interpreta- 
tion and unification were not mere movements of matter or mere 
organic processes, but conscious steps of knowing initiated, con- 
ducted, and completed by ourselves for a purpose. 

In this section, on ^* Sense-perception," we have 
considered :— 

1, Scnse-2Jerception JDefified, 

2, The Two JEleinents of Sense-perception* 

3, Tlie Conditions of Sense-perception, 

4, Abnormal Excitation, 

5, Definition of a Sense and a Sense-organ, 

6, Classification of the Senses, 

7, The Special Senses, 

8, The Knowledge Obtained by the Special Senses, 

9, What JDo We Perceive? 
10. What is It that Perceives? 

References : (1) Hamilton's Lectures on Metaphysics, p. 336. 
(2) Lewes' ProUems of Life and Mind, Second Series, p. 556. (3) 
Mind, April, 1882, p. 300. (4) Id., p. 301. (5) Lewes' ProUems of 
Life and Mind, Third Series, pp. 254, 255. (6) See Reports of the 
Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research, published by 
Triibner & Co., Ludgate Hill, London. (7) Lewes' ProUems of Life 
and Mind, Second Series, p. 210. (8) Lotze's Outlines of Psychology 
(translated by G-eorge T. Ladd), pp. 22, 23. (9) Ladd's Physiological 
Psychology, p. 410. (10) Bernstein's Five Senses of Man, pp. 289, 
290. (11) Id., p. 301. (12) Id., pp. Ill, 112. (13) Tyndall's Frag- 
ments of Science, p. 121. (14) Huxley's Lay Sermons, (15) Du-Bois 
Reymond's Lecture on The Limits of the Knowledge of Nature, 



44 PSYCHOLOGY. 

SEGTION in. 

SENSE- INTERPRETATION. 

1. The Double Character of Sense-perception. 

We have seen that the simplest act of Sense-perception 
involves the co-operation of the sensory mechanism and 
the knowing self ; i. e., without the sensory mechanism, 
there would be nothing perceptible; and without the 
knowing self, nothing would be perceived. Much of our 
knowledge derived through Sense-perception is the result 
of interpretation. The importance of Sense-interpretation 
can be better realized after we have considered the de- 
velopment of the senses, the acquired perceptions, the 
localization of sensations, illusions and the organization of 
sense-knowledge, to which we now proceed. 

2. The Development of the Senses. 

The lower animals are born with an almost complete 
adaptation for the performance of their life functions. 
The colt stands and walks when only a few hours old. At 
the age of three, he can do almost all he can ever do in his 
life-time. It is not so with a human infant. For years 
it is absolutely dependent on others for the continuance of 
its existence. No living creature is more ignorant, more 
defenseless, more entirely at the mercy of beings other 
than itself. Destined for the highest attainments of in- 
telligence, the infant possesses the least of automatic 
adaptation to the conditions of life. Everything has to 
be learned from the beginning. Instinct is at the mini- 



PRESENTAflVE KNOWLEDGE. 45 

mum, Intellect, undeveloped but potential, is at the 
maximum. Almost everything done by the child is done 
by conscious psychical reaction, not mechanically. Let us 
notice more particularly (1) the order and (2) the 7nodG of 
development. 

(1) The Order of Development. — The sense of touch 
is the earliest developed. The organization of tactual 
sensations into an intelligible system comes later. Hear- 
ing comes into play\ery early, so that a child may be 
frightened by loud or sudden noises. At first tastes and 
smells are not distinguished. Perceptive vision does not 
occur till the eye has formed the field of view. 

In 1863, a German observer, Thierri Tiedemann, made careful 
observations on one of his children, from its birth, for scientific 
purposes. This child rejected medicines on account of the taste at 
the age of thirteen days and at the same time knew its nourishment 
by smell. The child, which was not considered precocious, knew 
the direction of sounds at four months and ten days. At seven 
months, he imitated words without knowing their meaning. At six- 
teen months, he pronounced some words accurately and knew their 
significance. The child was able to fix his eyes attentively at two 
weeks from his birth, showing some power of distinguishing objects. 
In the second month he smiled* at certain actions and toward the 
close of the month would regard one thing with prolonged attention. 
By the middle of the sixteenth month, he could distinguish some 
objects in engravings.* 

(2) The Mode of Development. — We confine ourselves 
to vision and touch. Sensations of light in the eye are 
experienced at an early age. Vision proper begins, how- 
ever, only when the eye is attentively fixed upon particu- 
lar points, which are attractive by their brightness. Then 
lines and colors are discriminated and objects begin to 
take shape in the field of view. These are all seen at first 



46 Psychology. 

on a perfectly flat surface and the idea of perspective is of 
later growth. This is proved by experiments with the 
blind when they are restored to sight and with young 
children. The disposition of objects in their true relations 
in space is acquired by the consentient movement of the 
hand with the eye, whereby the presentations of sight are 
correlated with those of touch, and so the idea of perspec- 
tive is established. There are three processes in learning 
space-relations by touch. They are as follows : {a) One's 
hody is known as hounded hy a limiting surface, as when 
one is surrounded by cold or heated air or water ; {h) the 
tody and what is not lody are Tcnown as different, as when 
the hand is first applied to the body and then to something 
else, the first contact giving the sensations of touching 
and being touched and the second of touching only ; and 
(c) hy grasping objects they are known as occupying space, 
as when one grasps his wrist, finding a group of sensations 
within sensations, and then grasps a piece of wood, find- 
ing something not sensitive occupying the space where the 
group of sensations was. 

The following anecdote is related of a boy of twelve, cne of 
Cheselden's patients, from whom he had removed a cataract. He 
knew very well the dog and the cat by feeling, but could not tell 
which was cat and which was dog, when he saw them. One day, 
when thus confused, he took the cat in his arms, and feeling her 
carefully so as to connect his sensations of touch with those of 
sight, he set her down saying, "So puss, I shall know you another 
time." 2 William James (1842- ), an American psychologist, 
thinks sight can be developed without the aid of touch, and in- 
stances an Esthonian girl, Eva Lauk, 14 years old, born without 
arms or legs, who "came as quickly to a right judgment of the 
size and distance of visible objects as her brothers and sisters, 
although she had no use of hands." ^ 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 47 

3. Two Classes of Sense-perceptions. 

If I see and feel a piece of red-hot iron, I know by the 
sense of sight that it is red and by the sense of touch 
that it is hot. Each of these perceptions may be called 
original. After this experience, I know from the sight of 
the iron that it is hot, and when I see iron heated to red- 
ness, I say, '*^It looks hot/^ This is an acquired percep- 
tion, because the idea of heat is not an original deliver- 
ance of the sense of sight, but is derived from the psychica' 
combination of the perception of sight with that of touch. 

An original perception is one that is obtained from a 
single sense when exercised alone ; and an acquired per- 
ception is one that is obtained by using the knowledge 
given by one sense as a sign of knowledge which might be 
gained by another. 

The economy of time and effort in the use of sense-signs is very 
great. Thus, a barrel is known by the sound to be empty, an engi- 
neer knows the weakness of a bridge by the color of the timbers, a 
physician knows the condition of the heart and lungs by the sound 
in the stethoscope. Such signs are often obtainable where more di- 
rect information is impossible, and fui-nish as trustworthy grounds 
of inference as the facts of original perception. 

4. Acquired Sense-perceptions. 

(1) Of Touch. — These are of the' highest value. They 
enable the infant to distinguish injurious from harmless 
objects. To the skilled artisan, they are a kind of me- 
chanical conscience, intimating to him a thousand facts of 
utmost importance. The quality of his materials, the sharp- 
ness of his tools and the amount of power to be applied to 
them, are more or less clearly indicated by these perceptions. 



4g PsrcHOLo&r. 

(2) Of Smell. — We identify objects by the odor they 
emit. Thus a rose or a lily is distinguished by the smell 
and we affirm its presence with confidence. The ability to 
do this depends upon our frequent association of the pe- 
culiar odor with a certain assemblage of qualities which 
we call a ^'^rose.^^ We are deceived when the quality 
which we haye always known only in certain connections 
is presented to us isolated from its usual accompaniments. 

(3) Of Taste, — What is true of Smell is true also of 
Taste. The professional wine-taster is able to tell the 
kind and age of wine by the taste alone and sometimes 
attains such delicacy of discrimination as to analyze by 
the taste the proportions of different kinds in a combina- 
tion. 

(4) Of Hearing. — These are exceedingly useful. By 
them we are enabled to infer with considerable accuracy 
the direction and distance of objects. Every voice has its 
own peculiar quality and we can frequently recognize per- 
sons by their voices. The waiting wife knows the sound 
of her husband^s footstep and the expectant host identi- 
fies the rap of his friend on the door. 

(5) Of Sight. — The best results of vision are acquired. 
The original perceptions by Sight are simply extended 
colored surfaces. Everything else is acquired, (a) We 
judge of distance hy size. G-iven the magnitude^ we can 
determine the distance. If we are deceived in the magni- 
tude, we fall into error concerning distance, as when we 
take a small boy for a man and judge him to be farther 
off than he is. {h) We judge of magnitude hy distance. 
A small insect is sometimes taken for a bird, when it is 
erroneously supposed to be at a great distance from the 
observer, (c) We judge of distance hy intensity of color 



PRm^NTATIV^ KNOWLEDGE. 49 

and clearness of outline, Iii looking at a forest we notice 
that the nearer trees are brighter and more sharply defined 
than those more remote. These differences constitute 
what painters call ^^ atmosphere/^ by which they adjust 
objects in the proper space-relations, {d) We judge of 
the size of objects ly comparifig them with other ohjects. 
Men standing by an unusually tall object, as a high mon- 
ument, seem like children, (e) We judge of distance ac- 
cording as there are more or fewer intervening ohjects. 
The sea without vessels seems small, but it seems larger 
when covered with sails. The moon appears large when 
near the horizon, because many terrestrial objects inter- 
vene ; smaller in the zenith, because there is nothing with 
which to compare it. 

In all these processes of acquired Sense-perception, the 
necessity of a psychical reaction is evident. 

6. The liocalization of Sensations. 

That we localize our sensations in different parts of the 
body, is universally admitted. There are, however, two 
theories concerning the manner in which this localization 
is accomplished. These are : (1) The Intuitional, and (2) 
the Empirical theories. 

(1) The Intuitional, op Nativistic, Theory assumes that 
space is intuitively known at the very beginning of our 
perceptive life. This theory has been held by the Scotch 
philosophers generally and by the followers of the great 
German physiologist, IVIuller, who maintained that the 
spatial order of sensations has its basis in the constitution 
of the organism and is directly known by the soul. 

(2) The Empirical, op Genetic, Theopy maintains a 



50 PSYCHOLOGY. 

psychological evolution of the idea of space in the prog- 
ress of sensational experience. The first hints of this 
doctrine are found in Locke and Berkeley, and it h-as been 
more recently elaborated in England by Mill and Spencer. 
The most complete statement of the theory is to be found 
in the works of the German psychologist Lotze, who, 
however, does not deny an innate psychical power to form 
an idea of space, and in those of the German physiological 
psychologist, W. Wundt (1832- ), who supplements 
Lotze's Theory of Local Signs with a factor of muscular 
movement. 

Lotze's Theory of Local Signs applies to the localizatiou of all 
sensations, but we confine our statements to the application of it to 
the sensations of vision. ' ' The local sign, that concomitant of the 
sensation of color which prevents its losing its individuality, con- 
sists in a system of movements. To understand it, let us suppose 
that the image of a brilliant point is formed on one side of the 
retina ; at the same time a movement of the eye takes place, by 
which the centre of clearest vision is placed beneath this image (see 
Figure 15 for the distribution of the retina and Figure 17 for the 
motor attachments of the eye). We know, in fact, that there exists 
in the retina a small portion at the centre {fovea centralis, see v in 
Figure 15), which has a visual sensibility very superior to any other 
part. We know also, that, in virtue of a physiological contrivance, 
whose causes and origin it is not here our business to investigate, 
the excitation of any point of the retina occasions a deviation of the 
axis of the eye, in such a manner that the point of clearest vision is 
directed toward the exciting object. This understood, let us call 
this point of clearest vision v, and suppose that three other points of 
the retina, a, h, and c are excited (see Figure 15). The image 
formed at a will give rise to a certain movement, necessary to pro- 
duce the image at v. The image formed at b will give rise to a 
movement different from av. The image formed at c will give rise 
to a movement different from av and vb. Whatever positions we 
assign to a, b, c, it is easy to see that, in any case, the movements 
will not be identical, that each will have a character peculiar to 



PR^SENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 51 

itself. Indeed, if we suppose that a, b, and c are situated in the 
same line, or rather, in the same circular arc, the segments va, vh, vc, 
of this arc must have different magnitudes, and, as the eye must 
pass over them to bring in turn the images a, b, c, in the direction 
of clearest vision, there will necessarily arise muscular movements 
that are different in magnitude, though analogous in other respects. 
If we suppose a, b, c to be situated on the circumference of the same 
circle whose centre is v, then vb, va, vc, will be equal, but in differ- 
ent directions. Finally, if we suppose that a, b, and c are situated 
neither on the same line from v, nor on the same circumference 
whose centre is v, then va, vb, vc, will be at the same time unequal 
in magnitude and in different directions. If we designate the sum 
of all these movements by S, this sum is for each point of the retina 
an unchangeable and definite combination, and so we believe that we 
have in it a local sign that differences the excitation at each point 
from the excitation at any other. " ^ The arrangement of sensations 
in a spatial order is supposed to result from a discrimination of local 
signs. Lotze held this theory simply as an hypothesis. "The 
most recent of the genetic theories is that of Wundt. He accepts 
the theory of local signs, but judges it insufficient ; for how can a 
graduated series of qualitative local signs be transformed into an 
order of space ? Lotze explains this only by admitting the presence 
of a priori laws of mind. But, says Wundt, the different impres- 
sions are accompanied by movement, and thence results a feeling of 
innervation. These two elements — local signs and movement, with 
accompanying sensations — explain localization in space." ^ As Lotze 
really derives the idea of space from the laws of mind, so "Wundt 
implicates it in his element of movement, — already really included 
by Lotze, — which is impossible without space. While these genetic 
hypotheses may serve to show how a knowledge of actual positions is 
acquired by the soul, they do not remove our belief in the soul's 
original power of space-intuition. Extension, or space-occupancy, 
seems to be a datum in every actual experience of Sense- 
perception. 

6. The Illusions of Sense-perception. 

It is natural for one to believe in the presentations of 
his senses. On this very account one is liable to be de- 



5^ psYCHOLoar. 

ceived by them. A knowledge of the fact and of the 
sources of sense-illusion diminishes the probability that an 
observer will be deceived. The sources of sense-illusion 
are three : (1) The environment, which may present false 
appeaVances ; (3) the organism, which may be abnormally 
excited or internally deranged ; and (3) expectation, which 
may lead to beliefs not justified by facts. 

(1) Illusions produced by the environment originate in 
some presentation to the sense-organs that would not be a 
source of illusion, if properly interpreted. Thus, a stick 
half immersed in water seems bent. This is because the 
light reflected from the stick is refracted unequally by the 
water and by the air. To one ignorant of the fact of re- 
fraction, the illusion is complete ; but, as soon as this fact 
is taken into account, the illusion is dispelled. Certain 
figures are illusory, because their parts are capable of a 
double interpretation, according as they are mentally com- 
bined (see Figure 18). Art is prolific in illusions, pre- 
senting certain signs which indicate realities. The whole 
effect of perspective in painting is illusory, for while it 
represents depth it is on a plane surface. Ghost-seeing is 
often nothing more than the interpretation of some 
ghostly sign, for example a white garment, as indicating 
the presence of a spiritual visitor. 

We have a strong tendency to Interpret the indistinct or in- 
definite. Sully says: "This is illustrated in the well-known 
pastime of discovering familiar forms, such as those of human heads 
and animals, in distant rocks and clouds, and of seeing pictures in 
the fire, and so on. The indistinct and indefinite shapes of the 
masses of rock, cloud, or glowing coal, offer an excellent field for 
the creative fancy, and a person of lively imagination will discover 
endless forms in what, to an unimaginative eye, is a formless waste. 
J. Miiller relates that, when a child, he used to spend hours in dis- 



PBESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 53 

covering the outlines of forms in the partly blackened and cracked 
stucco of the house that stood opposite his own." ^ 

(2) Illusions produced by the organism are owing to 
unusual excitations. The presentation of each nerve 
comes^ in the course of time, to be referred to a particular 
part of the body. Thus, the sensation produced by a 
nerve running from the middle-point of the fore-finger of 
the right hand is referred to that point. Whenever that 
particular nerve is excited, no matter where or how, a 
sensation is produced which is referred to that point. If 
the finger is cut off and afterward the nerve is excited at 
the stump, the patient will affirm that he feels something 
touching the point of that finger. If any nerve is excited 
by any cause, as, for example, by mechanical stricture, 
chemical action or inflammation, the person believes him- 
self affected as he ordinarily is when that nerve is excited. 
Fever, indigestion, or even undue excitement of a general 
character, may fill the mind with illusions. A permanent 
derangement of this kind is insanity, a temporary one is 
delirium. These may be of various degrees. Another 
source of organic illusion is "after-sensation." It is 
noticeable that sensations sometimes persist after their 
cause has been withdrawn. Thus, sounds continue to 
ring in the ears after the sound itself has ceased, and 
colors remain in the eye after the eye itself has been 
closed. These colors often give place to their comple- 
mentary colors in an interesting manner. 

The following remarkable example of organic illusion is related 
by a high medical authority, Edward Hammond Clarke (1820-1877), 
a Boston physician: "Myearhest recollections (says a patient of 
Dr. Clarke's) are of a life made miserable by the daily companionship 
of a crowd of dreadful beings, visible, I know, only to myself. Like 



54 FSYGJIOLOGY. 

Madame de Stael, I did not believe iu ghosts, but feared them mor- 
tally. . . . Several years ago, one of my sisters was taken ill with 
typhoid fever. I was not strong enough to be of any assistance in 
her chamber, so I undertook to finish some work which she had 
commenced, and became daily more and more worn out in my en- 
deavors to carry it on. Anxiety, added to fatigue, finally brought 
back the old visions, which had not troubled me continuously for 
some years. Animals of all kinds, men, women, glaring-eyed giants, 
passed before or around me, until I felt as though I were surrounded 
by a circle of magic lanterns, and would sometimes place the back 
of my chair against a wall, that at least my ghosts should not keep 
constantly turning as they passed behind me. One evening, feeling 
too tired to sit up for the latest report of my sister, which my mother 
brought me regularly, I went to bed, leaving my door wide open, so 
that the gas from the adjoining entry sent a stream of light across 
one half of my little chamber, leaving the rest somewhat in shadow. 
Soon I saw my mother walk slowly into the room, and stop at the 
foot of the bed. I remember feeling surprised that I had not heard 
her footsteps, as she came through the passage. ' Well ? ' I said, 
inquiringly. No answer, but she took, slowly, two or three steps 
towards the side of the bed, and stopped again. ' What is the 
matter ? ' I exclaimed. Still no reply ; but again she moved slowly 
towards me. Thoroughly frightened by this ominous silence, I 
sprang up in bed, saying, ' Why don't you speak to me ? ' Until 
then her back had been turned to the door, but as I spoke last she 
turned, almost touching my arm, and the light falling on her face 
showed me an entire stranger. She had heavy dark hair, and her 
face, quite young, was pale, and though calm, very sad. Over her 
shoulders was a child's woolen shawl, of a small plaid not unfamiliar 
to me, which she drew closely about her as if she were cold. Her 
right hand, which pressed the shawl against her side, was very white, 
and I was struck by the great beauty of its shape. The thought 
passed through my mind, ' Can she be a friend of the nurse ? But 
why has she been sent so mysteriously to me ? ' As I stared at her 
in speechless amazement, she fell to the floor. I instantly stooped 
over the side of the bed. To my consternation there was nothing to 
be seen ! Accustomed as I was to ghosts, if there had been anything 
in the least shadowy about my visitor, I should have suspected her 
tangibility ; but so well defined was she, so vividly was her reality 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGK 55 

impressed upon me, that I could not believe that she had vanished." 
In commenting on this case, which is but one of many equally re- 
markable, Dr. Clarke says : ' ' This is evidence, to a certain extent, 
that the cerebral processes by which vision is produced may not only 
be started in the brain itself, but that, when so started, they are 
identical with those set going by an objective stimulus in the ordi- 
nary way." ' 

(3) Illusions produced by expectation are very common. 
Expectation is a condition of mind in which the subject 
is waiting for the appearance of something whose image is 
already more or less distinctly in his consciousness. This 
state is, substantially, one of pre-perception. As soon as 
anything appears presenting any of the qualities of that 
which is expected, the whole of what is expected is be- 
lieved to be at hand. Thus, when a guest is expected, the 
sound of approaching footsteps is the occasion for an- 
nouncing his arrival, before he is really seen. Some sug- 
gestion of a ghostly apparition is easily derived from the 
wind or the moon or other natural cause, by one who 
expects to see a ghost, and the picture is completed in the 
terrified consciousness. A coward is half beaten before he 
is touched, for his mind is filled with images of his own 
defeat which make him expect an overthrow. On the 
other hand, the expectation of victory is a potent means of 
securing it, unless it induces carelessness and under- 
estimation of an adversary's powers. 

The following is an example of this kind of Illusion : "A lady 
was walking one day from Penryn to Falmouth, and her mind being 
at that time, or recently, occupied by the subject of drinking- 
f ountains, she thought she saw in the road a newly-erected fountain, 
and even distinguished an inscription upon it, namely, — 

fif ans man tijftst, let I)fm come unto me anti tirfnft. 

Some time afterwards, she mentioneij the f^t with pleasure to the 



' 56 PSYCHOLOGY. 

daughters oi a gentleman wlio was supposed to have erected it. 
They expressed their surprise at her statement and assured her that 
she must be quite mistaken. Perplexed with the contradiction be- 
tween the testimony of her senses and of those who would have been 
aware of the fact had it been true, and believing that she could not 
have been deceived, she repaired to the spot and found, to her as- 
tonishment, that no drinking-fountain was in existence — only a few 
scattered stones, which had formed the foundation upon which the 
suggestion of an expectant imagination had built the superstruc- 
ture." ^ Another case, taken from Sir Walter Scott's '* Demonology 
and Witchcraft," records the experience of the author who, soon 
after the death of Lord Byron, had been reading an account of his 
habits and opinions. "Passing from his sitting-room into the 
entrance-hall, fitted up with the skins of wild beasts, armor, etc., he 
saw, right before him, and in a standing posture, the exact repre- 
sentation of his departed friend, whose face had been so strongly 
brought to his imagination. He stopped for a single moment so as 
to notice the wonderful accuracy with which fancy had impressed 
upon the bodily eye the peculiarities of dress and posture of the 
illustrious poet. Sensible, however, of the delusion, he felt no 
sentiment save that of wonder at the extraordinary accuracy of the 
resemblance, and stepped onwards towards the figure, which resolved 
itself, as he approached, into the various materials of which it was 
composed. These were merely a screen occupied by great-coats, 
shawls, plaids and such other articles as are usually found in a 
country entrance-hall." ' 



7. Methods of Avoiding Illusion. 

The causes of sense-illusion readily suggest the means 
to be taken to avoid self-deception. The following rules 
seem to cover the different cases : 

(1) Observe closely, to avoid being deceived by ap- 
pearances. 

(2) Compare the presentations of the different senses. 

(3) Take account of the organic condition, 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 57 

(4) Do not entertain expectations with such tenacity as 
to prejudge the actual presentation. 

It is difficult to avoid mingling inference with observed facts. 

We have a strong tendency to create a theory of the cause of an ap- 
pearance at the same time that we observe it. Lawyers find great 
practical difficulty in extracting the pure truth from even conscien- 
tious witnesses, because they are disposed to relate as seen that which 
they have only inferred as true. Even scientific observers and 
experimenters are not free from this vice of pre-perception and, ac- 
cordingly, nothing can be accepted as certainly true in the sphere of 
sense-phenomena unless it can be verified repeatedly and by ob- 
servers of a skeptical tendency. It is damaging to the theories of 
those who believe in the earthly return of departed spirits, that they 
produce their alleged facts only in the dark, under conditions of 
mental excitement and object to the presence of skeptical persons. 



8. Percepts and Objects. 

The presentations of Sense-perception are simple and 
single. They are isolated fragments of knowledge, not 
knowledge in an ordered system. No single sense gives 
us our entire knowledge of any one object. It is by the 
union of these fragments of knowledge into composite 
wholes that we come to know external objects as individual 
things, combining in themselves their various qualities. 
Each original deliverance of the senses is called a " per- 
cept." An object of knowledge, as known by us, is a 
group of such percepts. External things are connected 
in our minds and are believed to be connected in reality, 
so as to form a universe, or system possessing unity ; a 
cosmos, or inter-related whole, revealing harmony of 
action and subject to general laws. This unification 
takes place in consciousness under laws of mind intui- 
tively knov/n, 



58 PSYCHOLOGY. 

9. The Organization of Percepts. 

In its reaction upon sense-impressions, the soul organ- 
izes the elements of knowledge into a microcosm, or little 
universe, corresponding to the outer cosmos. It does 
this by grouping the percepts that are received through 
the senses according to certain relations, which are as 
follows : 

(1) The relation of Being. Percepts are accepted as 
the correlates, or representatives, of real beings. They 
stand for realities. They are distinguished from self and 
referred to a division of being that is not self. 

(2) The relation of Cause. Percepts are apprehended 
as having been produced in us by the reality which they 
represent. We cannot think of them except as effects of 
something that has caused them. 

(3) The relation of Space. Percepts are referred to 
certain points in space and stand related to one another 
in an order of co-existence. The forms of being which 
they represent are apprehended as sustaining these rela- 
tions of co-existence at times when we are receiving no 
percepts from them. 

(4) The relation of Time. Percepts are arranged in an 
order of succession. We distinguish between the earlier 
and the later. Each one is a unit and these units in their 
sequence give us the notion of number. 

Unless percepts are thus organized in these relations, 
they are not entertained as elements of knowledge. They 
are organized parts of knowledge as soon as they fall into 
these relations. A percept of nothing, without cause, ex- 
perienced nowhere, and at no time, is no form of knowl- 
edge, Here, again^ we §§e that our knowledge of 9 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 59 

"thing," op natural object, is not simply a physical or a 
physiological result, but the product of psychical reaction. 

10. Conditions of Organizing Percepts. 

There are conditions that must be fulfilled, or it is im- 
possible to organize impressions into knowledge. These 
conditions are : 

(1) A suflacient period of time. No impression is per- 
ceived, unless the excitation has some continuance. A 
burning coal may be moved so rapidly as to appear like a 
circle of fire, when in reality it is but a single point. The 
reason is that the circle is made so swiftly as to produce 
but one impression through the eye. 

The velocity of light and that of sound have been calculated by- 
physicists and are set down as about 190,000 miles per second for 
light, and 1,090 feet per second for sound, at 32° F., sound travel- 
ling one foot faster per second for every degree above that tempera- 
ture. The speed of transmission through a motor nerve in man 
has been calculated by Helmholtz to be about 111 feet per second, 
but Von Wittich found it to be 98.5 feet. Hirsch calculated the 
speed in the sensor nerves to be about 111.5 feet per second. 
" More than this has been done; the time has been measured which 
is requisite for an irritant conducted to the brain to be transmuted 
into consciousness. Such determinations, in addition to their theo- 
retical value, are of practical interest to observing astronomers. In 
observing the passage of stars on the meridian and comparing the 
passage seen through the telescope with the audible beats of a sec- 
ond-pendulum, the observer always admits a slight error, dependent 
on the time which the impressions on the two senses require to reach 
the state of consciousness. In two different observers this error is 
not of exactly the same value ; and in order to render the observa- 
tions of different astronomers comparable with each other, it is nec- 
essary to know the difference between the two cases, the so-called 
personal equation. In order to refer the observations made by 
each individual to the correct time, it is necessary to determine the 



60 PSYCHOLOGY. 

error which is made by each individual. Let us suppose that an 
observer sitting in complete darkness suddenly sees a spark, and 
thereupon gives a signal. By a suitable apparatus, both the time at 
which the spark really appeared and that at which the signal was 
given are recorded. The difference between the two can be meas- 
ured, and it is called the physiological time for the sense of sight: 
the physiological time for the sense of hearing and for that of touch 
may be determined in the same way. Professor Hirsch, of Neuf- 
chatel, found this to be, in the case of 



The sense of Sight 0.1974 to 0.20 

The sense of Hearing 0.1940 seconds. 

The sense of Touch 0.1733 seconds. 

When the impression which was to be recorded was not unexpected, 
but was known beforehand, the physiological time proved to be 
much shorter; in the case of sight, it was only 0.07 to 0.11 of a sec- 
ond." ^^^ For a very complete and satisfactory summary of experi- 
ments of this kind, see Ladd's "Physiological Psychology," pp. 468, 
497. 

(2) A certain intensity in the impression is necessary. 

J. F. Herbart introduced into Psychology the expression 
the " threshold of consciousness," to designate that point 
at which an impression or *''' representation" enters into 
the sphere of feeling. There has been developed a school 
of psycho-physics whose members have devoted much 
effort to the determination of the quantitative laws of 
sense-impressions. The law of Weber is : In order that 
a sensation may increase in quantity in arithmetical pro- 
gression, the stimulus must increase in geometrical pro- 
gression. Although this law cannot be rigidly demon- 
strated, it expresses a general truth, that an impression 
must reach a certain degree of intensity before it can be 
known, and that any increase in perception requires a 
greater proportionate increase in stimulation. 

The most important contributor to psycho-physics is the German 
experimenter, G. T- Fechner (1801- ). Fechner'$ forinula is: 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDOE. ei 

"T^e sensation grows as the logarithm of the excitation.'' Nearly- 
all the experiments of Fechner are contested by Hering and others. 
His work is in part accepted and modified by the French psycholo- 
gist Delboeuf and the German psychologist Wundt. For a very 
interesting account of psycho-physical investigation and controversy, 
see Ribot's " German Psychology of To-day," translated by Baldwin. 
We have room for only a few alleged results. To increase percep- 
tibly a sensation of pressure, we must add ^ to the original weight ; 
to increase a sensation of muscular effort, we must add -^ ; to in- 
crease a sensation of light, we must add yJ^ ; to increase a sensation 
of sound, we must add ^. 

(3) A certain psychical reaction is necessary. Some- 
times a soldier, wounded in the heat of battle, is not con-' 
scions of his injury until the battle is over. In this case, 
thousands of painful impressions would have been realized 
had they been made the objects of conscious reaction. 
The attention being engrossed upon other objects, they 
pass away and are not grouped with his perceptions, be- 
cause they have not received attention. Others designate- 
this act of attention by the word apperception, meaning 
thereby the reaction of the conscious subject upon the im- 
pressions. 

Wundt makes much of this process of apperception and locates 
it in the frontal regions of the brain. It is through it that unity is 
given to our mental life. What is it that attends or apperceives ? 
Consciousness says "/," indicating thereby the conscious self. Does 
physiology contradict this testimony ? Does it affirm that appercep- 
tion is a function of the brain, or of a portion of the brain ? There 
is no physiological, or other evidence in opposition to that of con- 
sciousness. " All the sensations of the senses," says Bernstein, "of 
which we are capable, pass into perceptions of the senses, as soon as 
certain mental operations have been aroused by the sensory excite- 
ment." ^^ " We are entirely unable," says Rosenthal, " even to in- 
dicate how this consciousness comes into being. It may be due to 
molecular processes in the nerve-cells which result from the received 



62 psTcmLoaT. 

excitement ; but molecular processes are but movements of the mole^ 
eules, and though We can understand how such movements cause 
other movements, We are entirely unaware how these can be trans- 
lated into consciousness." ^^ After a careful review of the whole 
subject, Ladd concludes: "The phenomena of human conscious- 
ness must be regarded as activities of some other form of Real 
Being than the moving molecules of the brain. They require a 
subject or ground which is in nature unlike the phosphorized fats of 
the central masses, the aggregated nerve-fibres and nerve-cells of the 
cerebral cortex. . . . That the subject of the states of consciousness 
is a real being, standing in certain relations to the material beings 
which compose the substance of the brain, is a conclusion warranted 
by all the facts."" 

11. Character of the Completed Product. 

The completed product of Sense-perception has the fol- 
lowing characteristics : 

(1) It is a form of distinct knowledge ; 

(2) It is organized in certain necessary relations ; 

(3) It may be reproduced in consciousness ; 

(4) It may be recognized as having been known be- 
fore; 

(5) It may be recombined with other forms of knowl- 
edge ; 

Such a result is an Idea, as distinguished from a per- 
ception, and, as a psychical product, has a psychical nat- 
ure. In passing from the world of perceptions to the 
world of ideas, we enter a new province which we shall 
partly explore in succeeding chapters. 

12. Relation of Soul and Body. 

The relation between the conscious self, or soul, and 
the organic system, or body, is not known directly by 



PRE81SNTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. ^% 

either internal or external observation. The doctrine of 
their connection is theoretical and^ as sueh^ does not be- 
long to Psychology as a science. It is at this point that 
philosophic systems have their psychological origin. 

(1) Monism (from the Greek iiovoq^ monos, one) assumes 
that soul and body are of one substance. It takes on the 
form of {(£) Materialism when the soul is regarded as a 
mere product of material combination, or as a function 
of matter in motion ; of (Z*) Idealism when all known ob- 
jects are regarded as ideas, or products of psychical action, 
the soul being considered as immaterial and its phenom- 
ena as the only other realities ; and of (c) Agnosticism when 
ignorance is professed concerning the nature of the one 
substance which is assumed to underlie the modes of both 
physical and psychical being. 

(2) Dualism (from the Latin duo, two) has usually as- 
sumed the form of [a) Mysticism, inventing the hypoth- 
eses of vision of all things in God, pre-established harmony, 
and the intervention of a tertium quid, or third entity, to 
connect the abstract notions of mind and matter. More 
solid scientific ground is found in (Z*) Dualistio Realism, 
which rests upon the clear apprehension of the soul by 
Self-consciousness and of the body by Sense-perception as 
two modes of being so inconvertible in thought and an- 
tithetical in attributes that we are obliged to regard them 
as tiuo different, but real, substances, whose relation is 
established in the psycho-physical unity of our being, but 
in a manner unknown to us. 

The Monistic doctrines all ignore the idea of opposition which 
every language, and in truth every man, seems to note between the 
phenomena of consciousness and the phenomena of the physical 
world. Alexander Bain may be classed as a Materialist in his con- 



64 PSYGEOLOar. 

ception of the body as a " double-faced unity," mind oil One side and 
matter on the other, with the implication that mind is but a func- 
tion of matter, thus leaving matter in the field as the primary mode 
of being and only real substance. J. S. Mill is an Idealist, regarding 
mind as a "series of feelings," a "thread of consciousness," while 
matter is a " permanent possibility of sensations." Herbert Spencer 
is a typical Agnostic, referring the phenomena of both mind and 
matter, between which he- admits a difference, to an Unknown and 
Unknowable Absolute Substance. If the existence of either mind or 
matter is to be brought in question, the balance of evidence, as esti- 
mated by the greatest thinkers, seems to be that all is mind. Dual- 
Istic doctrines have been complicated by arbitrary and metaphysical 
ideas of both mind and matter. The tendency to regard thought as 
the essential characteristic of mind and extension as that of matter, 
may be traced back to Descartes, who treated both abstractly and 
yet as if they were realities. The French Cartesian philosopher, 
Nicolas Malebranche (1638-1715), employed the vision of all things 
in God to account for the unextended soul's knowledge of extended 
things by assuming a direct vision of ideas in the divine mind (spirit 
being able to know the contents of spirit), and the doctrine of occa- 
sional causes to account for its movement of things by special di- 
vine assistance on the occasion of a human volition (the divine spirit 
being omnipotent). G. W. Leibnitz (1646-1716), an erudite and in- 
genious German philosopher, propounded his theory of pre-estab- 
lished harmony, by which the Creator is supposed to have ordered 
the phenomena of mind and those of matter to run parallel, without 
connection, like two clocks keeping the same time. Others sought 
to solve the problem of the relation of mind and matter by means of 
a tertium quid, or third entity, thus doubling the difficulty by re- 
quiring two impossible connections instead of one. Dualistic Real- 
ism has been maintained almost universally by mankind, without an 
attempt at solving metaphysical difficulties. It has been held by 
the Scotch philosophers generally from the time of Thomas Reid to 
that of James McCosh (1811- ), an American contemporary rep- 
resentative of the school. It has the advantage of adherence to 
facts and the rejection of arbitrary or mystical hypotheses. It also 
avoids a metaphysical, or abstract, conception of either mind or 
matter, rather regarding both as concrete realities. After all, there 
is quite as much difficulty in explaining the action of bodies at a dis- 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 65 

tftnce, say the earth's gravitative action on the moon, as in explain- 
ing the relation of soul and body. A true science will colligate facts 
as Nature has connected them and confess ignorance where the 
means of further knowledge cease. 

Instead of the division of our nature into body and soul, others 
have proposed a threefold division, or trichotomy, into body, soul, 
and spirit. This has been defended by a few, as, for example, by 
the German theologian Delitzsch (1818- ), in his "Biblical Psy- 
chology," as constituting the psychological assumption underlying 
the language of the Christian Scriptures. That no such assumption 
is implied, and that the terms "body," "soul," and "spirit" are 
not to be taken as indicating wholly separate constituents of human 
nature, is maintained by theologians generally, while the threefold 
division is wholly repudiated from a purely scientific and philosoph- 
ical point of view.^^ 



13. Sense-perception and Education. 

The senses and their presentations are important factors 
of education. The physical world exists for the soul, not 
simply to gratify our desires, but to train and unfold our 
powers. The doctrines laid down in this section show us 
(1) what should be the earliest studies, (2) in what man- 
ner they should be pursued, and (3) how to improve our 
Sense-perceptions. 

(1) The earliest studies of childhood should be objective 
and presentative. The brain-substance of young children 
is especially adapted to receive impressions. The sim- 
plest intellectual discriminations are those of perception. 
Therefore, the simple elements of knowledge are the proper 
mental food for children. Concrete facts, not abstract 
ideas, should be imparted, and whenever it is possible, by 
actual observation. The kindergarten system of F. W. 
A. Fpobel (1782-1852), a German thinker who borrowed 
ideas of J. H. Pestalozzi (1746-1827), the celebrated Swiss 



gg PsWilOLdQY, 

educator, recognizes these truths and was an important 
advance in the education of children. 

(2) The method of study should be that of object-les- 
sons. The best object-lessons are derived from objects 
themselves. Accordingly, the true method of teaching 
the physical sciences is to display to the learner, so far as 
possible, the things about which he is learning the facts 
and laws, — ^plants, animals, rocks, or stars, — and next to 
these models or pictures of them. And yet the objects 
themselves will not suffice. These have always been be- 
fore men with little practical fruit. Teachers and books 
are also needful to stimulate, interest and guide. As lan- 
guage is made up of spoken sounds, it should be actually 
spoken to and by the learner, and the foreign names 
should be connected with what they signify, not with 
other words with which they have no natural connection. 
Thus only can we learn to thinh in a foreign language. 
As languages, imparted by the natural method, are largely 
objective and concrete, they form suitable studies for the 
young. 

(3) The improvement of Sense- perception is attained 
by its exercise. The eye or the ear is trained to perfection 
by employing it as an instrument of discrimination. Sail- 
ors and hunters, whose discerning powers are wonderful 
in certain particulars, do not have better eyes than other 
people, but their owners know how to use them better as 
means of knowledge. Our sense-organs become adapted 
to any use we choose to make of them and their value de- 
pends upon ourselves. It has been wisely said, '^'^ All men 
look upon the same world, but not with the same eyes or 
to the same purpose." Teachers should not overlook the 
value of play for children, not only as a means of recrea- 



PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 67 

tion, but as affording experimental knowledge of the prop- 
erties of things and as a means of training the senses. 
Industrial education has a special value in developing the 
senses and organizing in the brain a true representation 
of material properties and forces by the adjustment of 
sensor and motor powers in manipulation. 

In this section, on *^ Sense-interpretation," we have 
considered :— 

1. Tlie Double Character of Sense-perception, 

2. Tlie Development of the Senses, 

3. Two Classes of Sense-perception, 

4. Acquired Sense-percejjtions, 

5. Tlie Localization of Sensations, 

6. The Illusions of Sense-perception, 

7. Methods of Avoiding Illusion, 

8. Percepts and Objects, 

9. The Organization of Percepts, 

10. Conditions of Organizing Percepts, 

11, Character of the ComjJleted Product • 

12. Relation of Soul and Body, 

13, Sense-perception and Education, 

References : (1) See the little work in French, by Bernard Perez, 
Thierri Tiedemann et la science de V enfant. (2) Carpenter's Mental 
Physiology, p. 188. (3) Mind, July, 1887, p. 324. (4) Ribot's Ger- 
man Psychology of To-day (translated by Baldwin), pp. 86, 87. 
(5) Id., pp. 100, 101. (6) Sully's Illusions, pp. 99, 100. (7) Clarke's 
Visions; a Study in False Sight, pp. 26, 29. (8) Tuke's Influence 
of the Mind upon the Body, p. 44. (9) Quoted by Carpenter, 
Mental Physiology, pp. 207, 208. (10) Rosenthal's Physiology of 
Muscles and Nerves, pp. 288, 289. (11) Bernstein's Five Senses 
of Man, p. 34. (12) Rosenthal's Physiology of Muscles and Nerves, 
p. 278. (13) Ladd's Physiological Psychology, pp. 606, 607. (14) 
See Charles Hodge's Systematic Theology, II., pp. 47, 51, and 
Augustus H. Strong's Systematic Theology, pp. 244, 247. 



CHAPTER IL 

REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

DEFINITION AND DIVISION OF REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

Representative Knowledge is Icnowledge of objects, 
qualities or relations not actually present to the senses, 
but represented by ideas. For example, I saw a black 
horse yesterday, of which I had at the time immediate, 
or presentative, knowledge. To-day, I have a representa- 
tive idea of him, although he is absent. This idea is 
associated with other ideas and is capable of reproduction, 
recognition and recombination. We have already traced 
the history of the formation of such an idea, which is the 
completed product of Sense-perception. We have now to 
inquire: (1) How ideas are connected in trains by Associ- 
ation ; (2) How they are reproduced in consciousness by 
Phantasy ; (3) How they are recognized by Memory j and 
(4) How they are recombined by Imagination. 

"'Ideas,'" says Lotze, "in contrast to sensations, is the name 
primarily given to those images arising from previous sensations, 
with which we meet in consciousness. This accords with the usage 
of speech ; we form an idea of what is absent, of what we do not 
perceive by the senses ; but we perceive by the senses what is pres- 
ent, — that of which, on just that very account, we do not need to 
form an idea. Ideas have their peculiar differences from sensa- 
tions. The idea of the brightest radiance does not shine, that of 
the intensest noise does not sound, that of the greatest torture pro- 
duces no pain; while all this is true, however, the idea quite accu- 
rately represents the radiance, the sound, or the pain, which it does 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 69 

not actually reproduce."* When we look directly at an object, we 
have an immediate knowledge of it, but carry away an " idea " of it. 
However much abused in common speech, the word "idea" con- 
tinues to be our best English word for representative knowledge. 



SEGTIOIT L 
ASSOCIATION. 



1. The Relation of Impressions. 

Our sense-impressions are experienced in a succession 
of time and referred to an order of co-existence in space, 
so that they are not recalled as separate and single but 
associated in groups. We have already seen that the 
organization of percepts in certain definite relations is 
essential to perception. Accordingly, our ideas are con- 
nected, constitute a train of ideas and recur to conscious- 
ness in a certain order and relation. This aggregation of 
ideas into groups, or trains, is called the association of 
i( 



Ideas suggest one another in a manner with which we are all 
familiar. The idea of a hearse brings up ideas about death. The 
idea of a house suggests the appearance of its inmates. The first 
word of a song suggests the following words. Thus we find that all 
our ideas are connected in groups and trains, so that if one idea is 
uppermost in consciousness, others are almost certain to arise in 
connection with it and, as we often say, are suggested by it. It is 
this power of suggestion that we wish in the present section to illus- 
trate and explain. We shall see that it does not reside in ideas 
themselves but in the soul, which reproduces them. 

2. The Laws of Association. 

As long ago as the time of Aristotle, it was known that 
representative ideas recur to consciousness according to 



70 PSYCHOLOGY. 

certain laws. Aristotle ^ laid down three^ which have been 
generally accepted, as follows: (1) The Law of Resem- 
blance, according to which ideas that are similar are 
grouped together and suggest one another ; (2) The Law 
of Contiguity, according to which ideas which are related 
in space or time, — as the parts of an object, or the succes- 
sive notes of a song, — suggest one another ; and (3) The 
Law of Contrast, according to which objects strikingly 
unlike, as light and darkness, suggest one another. 
Others have increased these three laws to ten, but without 
sufficient reason. The so-called Law of Redintegration 
reduces them to one. It was first suggested by St. Augus- 
tine (354-430), a distinguished Father of the Church, and 
is usually referred to by writers as Hamilton's reduction 
of the laws of association, but was rejected as inadequate 
by him. It may be formulated thus: '^ Objects that have 
heen previously united as parts of a single mental state, 
tend to recall or suggest one another."^ In addition to 
these laws, which may be called Pplmapy Laws of Associa- 
tion, there are certain Secondary Laws, so named because 
they seem to be less universal and more dependent upon 
circumstances than the Primary Laws. These are (1) The 
Law of Intensity, according to which ideas formed with 
special intensity of psychical action persist longest and 
recur most frequently in consciousness ; and (2) The Law 
of Repetition, according to which the more an idea is 
dwelt upon and repeated in thought, the more prominent 
and enduring it becomes. 

Aristotle's statement of the Laws of Association is very brief. 
The English philosopher, Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679), brought out 
the association between "means and end," "cause and effect," 
"sign and thing signified." Both Aristotle and Hobbes refer these 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE.^ 71 

connections to movements in the physical organism. John Locke 
treats of the connection of ideas as natural and necessary and yet 
does not rely upon association for any important explanations. 
David Hume really laid the foundations of the modern Associational 
Philosophy by resolving all our psychical experiences into sensations 
and the associations between them. David Hartley (1705-1757), an 
English physician and writer, attempted to connect the psycholog- 
ical doctrines of Hume with physiological theories of his own, regard- 
ing certain vibrations in the medullary substance of the brain as the 
cause of sensations, building up the whole fabric of knowledge and 
feeling out of elementary sensations by the aid of association. The 
speculations of Hartley were never widely accepted and are now 
treated with disregard on account of his imperfect psychological 
analyses and crude physiology. The Scotch philosopher, Thomas 
Brown (1778-1820), adopted the idea of association and, under the 
name of " suggestion," attempted to explain the natural history of 
certain forms of knowledge and even to account for results formerly 
attributed to distinct faculties, whose existence he in part denied. 
Another Scotch writer, James Mill, has treated the subject with 
more precision and delicacy of analysis and has striven to account 
for such ideas as those of ''substance," "cause," "space," and 
"time" by showing that they are simply "inseparable associa- 
tions." His son, John Stuart Mill, has contributed much to English 
Associationism, following out even more extensively the doctrines 
of his father. The Senior Mill was a close student of Hartley and 
leaned toward Materialism, but John Stuart MiU repudiates the 
dependence of psychical states upon corresponding bodily states and 
considers the laws of association as purely psychological. He, 
however, rejects the idea of an independent Ego, explaining the 
entire being of the soul as consisting in associated sensations. 
Alexander Bain rejects the idea of independent faculties and 
endeavors to explain the facts of consciousness as physiological 
effects which are combined by association so as to include the whole 
fabric of psychical life, the association of ideas being merely the 
ideal side of certain combinations in the substance of the brain. In 
his doctrine there is a return to physiological assumptions similar to 
those of Hartley. Herbert Spencer unites the physiological origin of 
conscious states with the doctrine of association, supplemented by the 
process of evolution. For him sensation, as a correlate of a physical 



72 . PSYCHOLOGY. 

process, is the elementary fact in the natural histor/ of mind. By 
the process of association, which corresponds to the grouping of 
nervous stimulations, the higher psychical experiences are evolved 
out of simple sensations. Thus the idea of association is made to 
serve the purpose of explaining the development of the Ego and of 
its faculties. 

3. The Primary Laws of Association. 

A closer attention to the three primary laws of associa- 
tion is desirable. Let us examine them in their order. 

(1) The Law of Resemblance. — Similar ideas are fre- 
quently associated together. One beautiful landscape re- 
minds us of another. The face of a stranger recalls the 
face of an absent friend, because of the resemblance. A 
very cold day causes us to think of another like it years 
ago. There is no doubt that this is a general law of asso- 
ciation of ideas. What is the connection between the two 
ideas thus said to be associated, or brought into conscious- 
ness together ? Is it a physical or a psychical connection ? 
Is there a place in the brain where ideas are deposited, 
assorted according to their kind, so that the communica- 
tion of motion to one conveys it to another ? The crudity 
of this explanation is evident the moment we consider {a) 
that Physiology and Anatomy give us no warrant for re- 
garding the brain as a storehouse where things are de- 
posited ; {l) that an idea is not a thing having physical 
properties ; and {c) that an idea is a psychical product, 
utterly inconceivable except as the state of a conscious 
being that at once possesses and produces it. The facts 
are more easily harmonized if we suppose that similar 
ideas occur together, because the conscious soul that first 
produced them is thrown into such a state as to reproduce 
them. The association of similar ideas would seem, then, 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 73 

to result from an activity of the soul rather than from any 
connection between ideas themselves. 

(2) The Law of Contiguity.— When things have been 
known as adjacent in space, or events as consecutive in 
time, the ideas of them are associated. The idea of curl- 
ing smoke suggests the fire that produces it. The odor 
of a rose suggests the form and color of a rose. One letter 
in the alphabet suggests the next following. We repeat 
a verse easily in the natural order, with difficulty or not 
at all in the reverse order. What is the connection here ? 
Is it physical or psychical ? We can mentally reverse the 
order, and as soon as the mind has become accustomed to 
it, the new order is as easy as the old. The facility of 
transition is the result of a psychical habit. We conclude 
that in the case of contiguity also the connection is a psy- 
chical one, that is, one created by the mind through its 
own activity. 

(3) The Law of Contrast. — On a very warm day we wish 
for a cold one, on a very cold day we wish for ^ warm 
one. Our present misery leads us to think of our former 
good fortune. There is no doubt that certain ideas are 
thus brought together in consciousness because they are 
unlike. Whatever physical explanation we might give of 
the law of resemblance certainly could not apply to the 
case of contrast. If similar ideas lie connected in the 
brain, then dissimilar ideas do not. But suppose we re- 
gard all ideas as products of the soul, resulting from the 
state into which it is thrown. Then the reaction from 
one state may occasion the production of its opposite, as 
if seeking an equilibrium. 

It is assumed by Bain ^ and some other Associationists that each 
sense-impression is recorded in a cell of the brain. It leaves, so to 



74 PSYCHOLOGY, 

speak, a scar upon its appropriate cell. The cells are connected by 
nervous fibres so as to form circuits over which nervous force can 
travel as electricity travels over a system of telegraphic wires. The 
association of ideas, then, results from the order in which the cur- 
rent moves from cell to cell, producing in each a discharge which, 
on its subjective side, is a revival of the idea deposited there. Thus 
our whole mental life is the result of a succession of such nervous 
discharges in the brain. The order and connection of our ideas de- 
pend entirely upon the order in which these cells are discharged, and 
this upon the line of least resistance of the nervous current. The 
inadequacy of this conception of the mechanism of association is evi- 
dent from the following considerations : (a) It has never been proved 
that any particular "idea" has any definite location in any brain- 
cell ; {b) it has never been proved that the different cells have any 
such specific structure or properties as to enable them to retain for 
the length of time ideas are retained any impression whatever; (c) it 
has never been proved that consciousness of mental states follows 
any line of nervous current through the brain or that there are any 
restricted paths for such currents; {d) the duality of the brain, it be- 
ing divided into two hemispheres, renders doubtful the distribution 
claimed; (e) all that we know about an "idea" leads us to doubt 
that it can be preserved in a cell of matter composed of atoms; 
(/) an " idea " is a psychical product, not a physical thing, and can- 
not be shown to exist outside of a conscious mind. 



4. The Secondary Laws of Association. 

These have been yariously stated^ but they may be re- 
duced to the following two : 

(1) The Law of Intensity. — Ideas formed with special 
intensity of psychical action persist in the consciousness 
and endure longer than those formed with less intensity. 
This law is not universal. Our clearest and best formed 
ideas do not persist in the sense that they continue in con- 
sciousness, nor do they recur except when they are in con- 
nection with other kindred ideas. Still, it must be ad- 
mitted that, in general, such ideas are more prominent 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 75 

than others. But they simply reyeal a special energy of 
the soul in their formation and show the importance of 
the psychical factor. What the soul has. once done with 
energy or interest it repeats with energy or interest on oc- 
casion. Feeling is a link of association and constitutes 
the important element in what we designate as ^'^ in- 
terest. ^^ 

(2) The Law of Repetition. — A repeated act is easier to 
perform than an unaccustomed act. This is the law of 
habit. A lesson gone over with care many times can be 
repeated without the book, because the soul has acquired 
the habit of creating certain states of consciousness in a 
given order, and hence the repetition of the lesson becomes 
progressively easy. 

Too little notice has usually been taken of association through 
feeling, which as a constant element of experience is often the con- 
necting link between wholly dissimilar and otherwise wholly unas- 
sociated ideas. The following is a suggestive passage by an Ameri- 
can psychologist, John Dewey (1859- ), upon this point: "Feel- 
ing, in all cases, seems to serve as a matrix in which ideas arc 
imbedded, and by which they are held together. There is no more 
permanent tie between ideas than this identity of emotion. The 
power of a flag to awaken patriotic ideas and resolves, of a cross to 
arouse religious meditation or devout action, is due to the tie of 

feeling rather than to that of an intellectual process The 

poet not only detects subtler analogies than other men and perceives 
the subtler link of identity where others see confusion and difference, 
but the form of his expression, his language, images, etc., are con- 
trolled by deeper unities. These unities are unities of feeling. The 
objects, the ideas, connected are perhaps remote from each other to 
intellect, but feeling fuses them. Unity of feeling gives artistic 
unity, wholeness of effect, to the composition. When unity is want- 
ing there is no poetry ; where the unity is one of reflection, purpose, 
or argument, we instinctively feel that the composition approaches 
prose." * 



76 PSYCHOLOGY, 

5. The Laws of Association Resolved. 

The resolution of the Laws of Association into the Law 
of Eedintegration fails to formulate the whole truth, for 
it cannot be held that all similar ideas or all contrasted 
ideas have ever united to form one mental state. This 
Hamilton distinctly saw and enounced. A more success- 
ful attempt to resolve these laws into a single universal 
principle has been made by Porter : " The mind tends to 
act again more readily in a manner or form which is sim- 
ilar to any in which it has acted hefore."^ This state- 
ment avoids the objection to the Law of Eedintegration, 
for in reproducing a given idea it is an easy transition to 
another similar to it, and also by reaction to one con- 
trasted with it. This conception of the facts and laws 
of association of ideas has the following advantages : 

(1) It finds the cause of the connection of ideas in a 
psychical, rather than a physical, agent. It having been 
shown that ideas are psychical products, it is vain to look 
for the cause of their connection in physiological processes 
or anatomical arrangements in the body. Physiology hav- 
ing failed to explain the origin of a simple perception, it 
must fail also in explaining the connection between ideas. 

(2) It finds the cause of the connection of ideas in that 
which confessedly connects them, the soul itself. Ideas 
without a conscious subject knowing and combining them 
can have no conceivable existence. Apart from the con- 
scious subject they do not even exist. Their connection 
is in consciousness, not in a physical substratum. Even 
upon a physiological hypothesis, ideas are not connected 
until they are brought together in consciousness. 

(3) It avoids every form of grotesque and speculative 



JREPRESENTATiVS KNOWLEDGE. ^^ 

notion concerning the separate and substantive existence 
of ideas, wliicli every materialistic hypothesis must assume. 
Science knows nothing of a ''''theatre^' or '^show-place" 
of ideas, to borrow figures from Locke and Hume, nothing 
of the '^^ pigeon-holes of the mind," of the popular dialect, 
where ''^ ideas" are stored away like documents in a secre- 
tary. The anatomy of the brain reveals nothing of this 
kind. The minutest photography can copy no images of 
ideas in the brain. Ideas exist in the soul and for the 
soul and have no existence out of it. The doctrine that 
the soul reproduces its ideas, rids us of all unscientific hy- 
potheses about the '^ attractiveness of ideas for one an- 
other." All the phenomena of association are compre- 
hended in the one law of Habit, according to which the 
soul resumes those states which it has first assumed under 
the stimulation of sense-impressions. 

To speak of the " attractive force of ideas," — an expression 
used by the erudite Italian Frangois-Marie Zanotti, who (in 1747) 
employed it as the title of an ingenious book, — is indicative of the 
same unscientific condition of mind that is betrayed by such an ex- 
pression as, "Nature abhors a vacuum." It is a product of that 
tendency of mind which impels men to put abstractions in the place of 
concrete facts and inductions from them. To speak of "ideas" as 
" residing " in cells of the brain is a crudity of the same order. An 
" idea," as known to us, is not endowed with any property of attract- 
iveness for other ideas. Nor are ideas of such a nature that they 
can be referred to particular cells of the brain. My idea of a horse, 
for example, cannot be referred to any single cell. The cell is a liv- 
ing and constantly renewed material mass from which any image 
would soon be obliterated, if it were capable of receiving one, which 
it is not known to be. The act of combining images in any order at 
will, would be impossible, if images were imprinted in stationary 
and immovable cells in the brain. This mode of conception is a re- 
siduum of that primitive hypothesis of Democritus, that objects 
throw oU images (eidola) which enter into the head through the 



% PSYGHOLO&Y, 

organs of sense and serve us as representatives of the things them- 
selves. This mechanical conception still lingers in the idea of rep- 
resentative " impressions," fixed on cells as a seal on a tablet of wax. 
We cannot too often repeat that modern science recognizes nothing 
of this kind. The simplest sensation is a vital process requiring the 
reaction of the conscious subject. The simplest perception is a psy- 
chical result. An idea, then, is not a physical thing or the mark or 
property or product of a physical thing, but a product of the soul 
and non-existent except as the soul gives it being. 

6. The Place of Association in Representative 
Knowledge. 

The word '^Association^' properly designates that con- 
nection of our ideas into groups and trains which we con- 
stantly experience. Association is so far from explaining 
any thing, that it requires to be explained. The facts of 
association are not explained by the laws, which are mere 
generalizations, and imperfect ones, of the facts. These 
facts require for their explanation a cause that is able to 
produce them. The soul is the ideating agent, and the 
soul's tendency to repeat its own acts explains both the 
facts and the laws of association. The associational psy- 
chology, which would explain the nature of the soul by 
the composition of sensations, is inadequate and erroneous. 
No sensation can be explained without the soul, and the 
activity of the soul alone can explain the association of 
ideas. The theory of Associationism fails in three par- 
ticulars to give an account of the psychical facts : 

(1) It fails to explain the voluntary reproduction of ideas. 
We are conscious of the power to reproduce ideas, with cer- 
tain limitations, at will. We can reproduce ideas formed 
years ago and institute a connected train of representations. 

(2) It fails to explain the recognition of representatiye 



nEPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 79 

ideas. We not only can reproduce, we can recognize cer- 
tain representative ideas as known hy us before. 

(3) It fails to explain the voluntary recombination of 
ideas. We have the power to combine ideas in neio rela- 
tions, for example, to construct in the mind a building 
different from any we have seen and to fill it with objects 
which we have never seen together. 

The Association of Ideas does not give an account of 
these phenomena of our conscious experience. It fails, 
then, to explain the souFs life without the assumption of 
special powers belonging to the soul and exercised by 
it. We shall endeavor to describe the operation of these 
powers in the following sections. 

If the positions here taken with reference to Association and its 
laws should require further defense in order to render them accept- 
able to those otherwise instructed, the following statements may be 
helpful. It is here assumed that the soul is a real being endowed 
with powers, or faculties. This conception has not yet given place 
to the " Psychology without a soul " which is so interesting to cer- 
tain theorists. High authorities on the subject of ' ' Physiological 
Psychology" concede this point. Ladd says: ''Finally, then, the 
assumption that the mind is a real being, which can he acted upon 
hy the hrain and which can act on the body through the hrain, is the 
only one compatible with all the facts of experience.^^ ' It is the mind, 
or soul, that knows ideas and in which ideas are associated. We 
should, then, seek the explanation of association in the soul, not in 
the brain. We find that explanation in the law of habit, or custom- 
ary activity of the soul. If the soul is a real being> habit may be at- 
tributed to it as well as to a physical organ. " Gassendi (1592-1655), 
a French philosopher, has very ingeniously compared habitude to a 
paper which easily resumes the folds according to which it was fold- 
ed before. The Scotch philosopher, Dugald Stewart (1753-1828), 
looked upon habitude as a result of the association of ideas. This 
is, however, the mistaking of the effect for the cause. He sees the 
close relation, even the identity, between both phenomena, habitude, 



80 PSYGHOLOOr. 

and the association of ideas. He recognizes that the one phenom- 
enon is the more general and the other only a kind of particular in- 
stance of the same ; but he does not notice that the association of 
ideas is only one of the most frequent and remarkable forms of hab- 
itude If we now proceed to the definition of habit and hab- 
itude, we shall say, Habit is the disposition of a psycho-physical 
organism by which it is enabled on given (outer or inner) induce- 
ments directly to perform relatively similar functions, simple or 

complicated Habitude is, furthermore, the development of 

this disposition by the repetition of relatively similar impressions 
and the reactions following them." ^ 

7. The Relation of Association to Education, 

Association of ideas has a twofold bearing upon edu- 
cation, because of the importance (1) of associations 
formed by others and presented to the learner and (2) of 
associations formed by the learner himself. 

(1) Associations formed by others. — There are certain 
groups and trains of ideas that have been forming for 
many generations and constitute an inheritance of human- 
ity embodied in language, institutions, and laws. A great 
part of education consists in the acquisition of this accu- 
mulated mass of already organized knowledge. It is con- 
veyed through language, whose component Words are signs 
of ideas and whose sentences stand for organized groups 
of ideas. All speech and literature, from the simple sen- 
tences addressed to children to the most abstruse philo- 
sophical treatises, represent such associated ideas. Litera- 
ture has been called " condensed Anthropology,^' because 
it contains the combinations of ideas of all the men whose 
writings are preserved to us. These associations, or group- 
ings, of ideas are conveyed to the mind of the learner 
ready-made. Hence the educational meaning of the ex- 
pression, ^^Line upon line and precept upon precept/' 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 81 

The primer, the catechism, and the text-book are medi- 
ums of producing in others ready-made groups and trains 
of ideas that are believed to be of moral or scientific, that 
is, of educational, value. A psychical habit considered by 
the teacher desirable is induced in the learner by the study 
of certain combinations of ideas, until, finally, they be- 
come a part of the learner's mode of thinking. This is 
the very essence of the process of instruction (from the 
Latin instruere, to build in). 

(2) Associations formed by the learner. — Education is 
not simply a filling but, in part, an unfolding process. 
The learner must be trained to group his ideas according 
to natural principles. To this end, studies should be pur- 
sued (a) comparatively, so as to bring similar facts together 
at the same time, to be referred to a common principle ; 
(J) historically, so as to connect facts in an order of natu- 
ral contiguity, which will be a chronological and a causal 
order ; and (c) analytically, so as to bring to notice the im- 
portant differences or points of contrast. These methods 
are adapted to the cultivation of the Intellect and the 
strengthening of independent judgments, and are, there- 
fore, avoided by teachers who wish to impress ready-made 
formulas upon the mind rather than to develop its facul- 
ties. The intensity with which study is pursued affects 
both the reproduction of what is learned and the increase 
of intellectual power. The dull and listless mind needs 
to be stirred and inspired, and the power of inspiration is, 
therefore, an essential quality in a good teacher. Enthu- 
siasm is awakened chiefly through the feelings, — the de- 
sires and affections ; — but, like every form of feeling, it is 
contagious and so may be imparted by one who possesses 
it and can hardly be generated by one who does not 



82 PSYCHOLOGY. 

Repetition is directly productive of habitude, wliicli it is 
the end of education as discipline to produce. For this 
reason, lessons should be gone over many times in propor- 
tion to their difficulty and reviews are important. It is, 
however, a mistake to substitute repetition for intensity 
in our studies and thus encourage lassitude with the hope 
of indefinite chances of making up in reviews. 



The value of language as an instrument of analysis is of the 

highest importance, and yet is often overlooked. Suppose I look out 
of my window and see a black horse running swiftly. The whole 
picture, as presented by the sense of vision, constitutes one single 
image. It remains one and single until I have occasion to describe 
it in words. The moment I attempt to do so, an analytic process, 
or process of resolution into parts, is necessary. I must name the 
animal "horse," his color, ** black, "his act, "running," his speed, 
" swiftly," and I must indicate whether it is a definite or an indefi- 
nite black horse that runs, and so must use an article, "a" or 
"the." Putting all together, I say, "-4. Uack horse is running 
swiftly, ^^ a sentence in which my one visual image is broken up 
by five distinctions, each expressed in a separate word. There is 
truth in the proverb, "No one knows a thing until he can tell it." 
The truth in it is, that expression in words increases our knowledge 
by compelling us to regard objects analytically. The study of lan- 
guage is, therefore, necessary to the proper study of things, and 
should accompany it. Physical science without verbal aid is impos- 
sible. It required long linguistic training before the human species 
ever regarded any object scientifically, and no unlettered people has 
ever made any advance in the scientific study of nature. 

On the other hand, the study of words without things dooms the 
Intellect to stagnation. Having received a formula, if we rest in it, 
we make no advance. Most of the error in the world is perpetuated 
through formulas which are accepted as authoritative without com- 
paring the combinations of words with the combinations of things. 
Error is usually nothing more than false associations of ideas. 
Truth is the correspondence of ideas, singly and in their combina- 
tions, with reality. 



In this section, on "Association," we have con- 
sidered :— 

1, The Melation of Tmpresmons. 

2, Tfie Laws of Association. 

3, The JPrhnary Laws of Association, 
4:. The Secondary Laws of Association, 

5, Tlie Laws of Association Resolved, 

6, The Tlace of Association in Representative 
Knowledge, 

7, The Relation of Association to Education, 

References : (1) Lotze's Outlines of Psychology, p. 28. (2) Aris- 
totle's -De la Memoire et de la Reminiscence, referred to in Hamil- 
ton's edition of Reid's Works, Note D***, where the history of the 
Doctrine of Association is fully discussed. (3) Hamilton's Lectures 
on Metaphysics, p. 435 and edition of Reid's WorTcs, Note D***. 
(4) Bain's Body and Mind, pp. 110, 112. (5) Dewey's Psychology, 
pp. 106, 107. (6) Porter's Humam, Intellect, p. 293. (7) Ladd's 
Physiological Psychology, p. 667. (8) Radestock's Habit and its 
Importance in Education, pp. 29, 30. 



SEGTIOIT n. 

PHANTASY. 
1. Definition and Nature of Phantasy. 

Phantasy (from the Greek (fyavrd^eiv, phantazein, to 
cause to appear) is the soul's power to reproduce ideas 
previously formed, in the absence of the objects them- 
selves. Sitting in my room, I can reproduce ideas, de- 
rived from Sense-perception, of the exterior of the build- 
ing, which I cannot now immediately know. This is an 
act of Phantasy. By many writers on this subject it 
would be called an act of Memory. The function of 



- 84 PSYGHOLOGY. 

Memory is to recognize, not to reproduce. Inasmuch, as 
reproduction may take place without recognition, we must 
ascribe to the soul a po^^wr of reproduction distinct from 
the power of recognition, that is. Phantasy as distinct 
from Memory. 

"Many children," says Clarke, *' especially very young children, 
possess the power, when they have closed their eyes in the dark, of 
surrounding themselves, by a simple act of volition, with a panorama 
of odd sights. The objects and persons evoked are not of a definite 
character, and are commonly queer and strange. They come in a 
throng, tumultuously, and disappear on opening the eyes. Most 
children who possess this power like to exercise it and see the show 
which they can call up in the darkness. Others are unwilling to 
exercise it, and are afraid to go to bed in a dark room, on account 
of the crowd of ugly beings which float in the air around them as 
they try to go to sleep." ^ De Quincey, the writer and critic, who 
was aware of this peculiarity in children, speaks of it in connection 
with the effects of opium upon himself : *' The first notice," he says, 
" I had of any important change going on in this part of my phys- 
ical economy was from the reawakening of a state of eye generally 
incident to childhood or exalted states of irritability. I know not 
whether my reader is aware that many children, perhaps most, have 
a power of painting, as it were, upon the darkness all sorts of phan- 
toms ; in some that power is simply a mechanic affection of the eye ; 
others have a voluntary or semi-voluntary power to dismiss or sum- 
mon them ; or, as a child once said to me, when I questioned him on 
this matter, ' I tell them to go, and they go ; but sometimes they 
come when I don't tell them to come.' Whereupon I told him that 
he had almost as unlimited a command over apparitions as a Roman 
centurion over his soldiers." ^ Dr. Clarke continues : *' An acquaint- 
ance of the author, who is now between fifty and sixty years of age, 
says that in his childhood, after closing his eyes at night, he could, 
and often did, by an act of volition call troops of queer forms around 
him. As years passed on and manhood approached, he lost the 
power of subjective vision, and though he has frequently tried since 
childhood to people the darkness in the old way, he has never been 
able to do so." 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 85 

2. The Representative Idea. 

The character of the representative idea is variable, 
being much more like the original idea obtained through 
Sense-perception in some persons than in others. It tends 
to become more dim and faint also with the progress of 
age. An ingenious English scientific- investigator, Fran- 
cis Galton (1822- ), has shown by means of answers 
to questions distributed to a large number of persons 
that what he calls ^'visualization," or ability to reproduce 
images, varies widely among persons of the same race 
and age. Among the results of Galton's inquiries are 
three of special interest : {a) Men accustomed to abstract 
thinking are weak in visualizing power ; {h) capacity 
for vivid reproduction of images does not vary with 
perceptual power in the use of the senses ; and {c) it 
does not vary with the tendency to dream. In gen- 
eral, we may say of the representative idea reproduced by 
Phantasy : 

(1) It is less vividly realized than the original. It is 
usually an exaggeration for one to say that ideas repro- 
duced are as vivid as perceived objects, still it is certain 
that in exceptional cases there is a near approach to such 
distinctness. 

(2) Representative ideas are reoombined to represent 
complex objects only slowly and with a sense of effort, 
and the whole does not at once stand but in its complete- 
ness before consciousness. Let the learner try to recall 
the whole of any large building with which he is familiar 
and this will be illustrated. 

(3) The representative image usually contains fewer 
elements than the original. Sometimes only a mere frag- 



86 PSYCHOLOGY. 

ment remains. At other times every detail can, with 
time, be reproduced. 

(4) The representative idea is in its nature an idea, not 
a thing, and although it may occasion an act of projection 
so that the resulting image is like a real object, still the 
idea, previous to such projection, is not like the original 
but simply represents it. 

An idea of Galton's method may be gathered from the following 
directions, sent out to the persons questioned by him : 

"Before addressing yourself to any of the Questions on the oppo- 
site page, think of some definite object, — suppose it is your break- 
fast-table as you sat down to it this morning — and consider carefully 
the picture that rises in your mind's eye. 

" 1. Illumination. — Is the image dim or fairly clear ? Is its 
brightness comparable to that of the actual scene ? 

"3. Definition. — Are all the objects pretty well defined at the 
same time ? or is the place of sharpest definition at any one moment 
more contracted than it is in a real scene ? 

"3. Coloring. — Are the colors of the china, of the toast, bread- 
crust, mustard, meat, parsley, or whatever may have been on the 
table, quite distinct and natural ? " 

He goes on to say, " To my astonishment, I found that the great 
majority of the men of science to whom I first applied protested 
that mental imagery was unknown to them, and they looked on me as 
fanciful and fantastic in supposing that the words * mental imagery ' 
really expressed what I believed everybody supposed them to mean. 
.... On the other hand, when I spoke to persons whom I met in 
general society, I found an entirely different disposition to prevail. 
Many men, and a yet larger immber of women, and many boys and 
girls, declared that they habitually saw mental imagery, and that it 
was perfectly distinct to them and full of color." He was led to 
conclude, "that an over-ready perception of sharp mental pictures 
is antagonistic to the acquirement of habits of highly-generalized 
and abstract thought, especially when the steps of reasoning are 
carried on bywords as symbols."^ It is a profitable exercise for 
each member of the class to state how representative images seem 
%o Jiiw, 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 87 

3. The Modes of Reproducing Images. 

Although ideas are not identical with single images, we 
can best approach the explanation of the operation of 
Phantasy in the reproduction of ideas by considering the 
three modes by which images may be reproduced. 

(1) Physical Stimulation. — The results of physical stim- 
ulation, that is, of original action upon the sense-organs in 
perception, sometimes persist in the nervous organism as 
'' after-sensations '* a considerable time after the original 
impression. Prolonged work with the microscope will 
cause images to live in the eye for many hours and to 
recur vividly for many days. The echoing of a song in 
the ear some time after the singing has ceased is another 
example. Sounds have been known to '' ring '' in the ears 
for fifteen days after musical concerts. Now the question 
is. How long do these effects continue ? May they not 
continue forever ? They certainly do not continue forever 
in consciousness, for sights and sounds usually succeed 
one another without interference, and such conscious per- 
sistence is the exception. If physical stimulation disposes 
a part of the nervous organism to certain states, however, 
some new stimulation, not necessarily physical, may re- 
vive them. 

On the effect of physical stimulation, Lewes says : "According 
to the old psychologists, the sensorium is a * chamber of images.' a 
spiritual picture-gallery, preserving all the scenes and events that 
have passed before sense ; no impression is ever lost ; it may fade 
into twilight, or vanish in the darkness, but it keeps its place in the 
picture-gallery, and will be visible every time the closed shutters are 
re-opened. This is obviously no explanation, but a metaphorical 
re-statement of the fact observed. What calls for explanation is 
the contradiction of a continued persistence in consciousness when 



88 PSYCHOLOGY. 

the persisting states are unconscious, and the capability these states 
have of suddenly, after many years, again starting into conscious- 
ness. In what sense can we admit this persistence ? The conscious 
states disappear ; the feelings as feelings no more exist after the 
subsidence of their excitation than the last year's roses exist. But 
something remains. The organism has traces of its past excitations 
and their re-excitation is easy. This is not only true of conscious 
experiences, it is true of experiences which at the time were uncon- 
scious. Every one knows how the objects we did not observe in 
passing along the street may be vividly seen when afterwards we 
recall that passing. There are also cases on record of idiots who 
under acute maladies have manifested a memory of events and ideas 
which previously they had not seemed to notice ; scarcely able to 
articulate a few words in their ordinary condition, they now speak 
fluently and eagerly of events which passed years ago. It is certain 
that the organism is modified by excitations ; but it is not at all cer- 
tain that the feelings which accompany or result from such excita- 
tions persist after the subsidence of their causes. To say that they 
still continue to exist in the mind is not more rational than to say 
that melodies continue to exist in the musical instrument after the 
sonorous vibrations have ceased, or that the complicated and fluent 
movements of a fencer continue to exist after he has laid aside the 
foils. By again striking the notes in the same order of succession 
each melody may be reproduced ; by again taking up the foil the 
fencer may once more go through the former graceful movements ; 
and so by stimulating the sensorium again its reactions may be re- 
produced."^ 

(2) Physiological Stimulation. — Admitting that phys- 
ical stimulation has pre-disposed the organism to be 
thrown into certain conditions, we may accept the propo- 
sition of Lewes, that *^the reinstatement of a perception 
is complete when the original conditions of that percep- 
tion are again in operation ; but its reinstatement in the 
form of an image of the object is only partial, because 
the objective sensible conditions are not reproduced.'^ If 
precisely the conditions of perception were reinstated, 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 89 

there would be a new perception. Assuming in the organ- 
ism an acquired facility for certain combinations, and 
adding the physiological stimulation of blood-supply, 
nervous currents, etc., for normal stimuli, and of opium, 
alcohol and other poisons, for abnormal stimuli, we may 
be able to account theoretically for a partial reinstatement 
of the conditions of perception, and thus explain the re- 
production of images. When that is done, however, we 
find ourselves where we were when we had reached the 
point in Sense-perception where a physiological condition 
becomes a psychical condition, where a state of the organ- 
ism becomes a state of consciousness. We saw there that 
a reaction of the self-conscious soul was necessary to the 
simplest sensation or perception, and so here we find it 
necessary to add to the physiological conditions of repro- 
duction a psychical reaction. 

The accumulation of observed facts is now so great and has been 
so fully subjected to analysis, that no well-informed person can 
doubt that activity of brain always accompanies activity of mind. 
This is shown {a) by the destruction of brain tissue in all intellectual 
operations, showing a physical decomposition as an accompaniment 
of psychical action ; (&) by the sense of fatigue and exhaustion in the 
nervous system after prolonged mental effort, and (c) by the renova- 
tion derived from rest and sleep as well as from certain specific 
nerve-foods. It may be further stated as beyond all doubt, that 
states of brain at all times affect and sometimes determine states 
of mind. This is proved {a) by the general relation between intel- 
lectual power and the size, form and quality of the brain and its 
attachments, microcephalism (abnormal smallness of brain) being a 
mark of idiocy and certain cerebral conformations usually indicat- 
ing mental deficiency; (5) by the results of vivisection and accident, 
showing that the absence or injury of certain parts of the brain and 
nervous system involves the total loss of certain psychical powers, 
or at least of their manifestation; and (c) by diseases of the brain 



90 PSYCHOLOGY, 

which give rise to impotency or confusion of mind, varying frona 
slight delirium to raving insanity. These are simple facts of obser- 
vation which every form of psychical doctrine is compelled to recog- 
nize, however idealistic its tendencies may be, and to which it must 
also adjust itself, if it would demand scientific credit. 

(3) Psychical Stimulation. — The psychical reaction which 
we have seen to be necessary to any reproduction of ideas 
may itself reinstate in the organism some of the condi- 
tions of perception so as to recreate, as it were, a very 
complete image of an absent object. Our common ex- 
perience illustrates this power of the soul to determine 
conditions of the organism. Try to recall vividly the 
exterior of the building in which you are sitting, and you 
will have an example of the reproduction of a series of 
images in the brain. That the very same parts are af- 
fected as were involved in original perception, is main- 
tained by psychologists as widely removed in their expla- 
nations as Hamilton and Maudsley. The proof of this is 
thought to be found in the physical effects that follow 
certain ideas, as nausea in the stomach from certain dis- 
gusting ideas of food, or the setting of the teeth on edge 
by the idea of a squeaky saw, or the puckering of the lips 
from the idea of crab-apples. We not only induce cer- 
tain images in the physical organism, but we have some 
power to banish them. The confusion and disorder of 
images in dreams and delirium, as compared with the order 
and rational direction of thought when consciousness is 
under voluntary control, show that connected thought is 
a psychical, not a cerebral, process. 

The power of psychical reaction is sometimes very great. Ni- 
QOlai, of Berlin, whose case (1791) has become well known, was abl© 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 91 

to produce "ideational cerebral pictures," or phantoms, at will. 
The case of the German poet Goethe is still more interesting and is 
thus reported by himself: *'As I entered my sister's house for 
dinner, I could scarcely trust my eyes, for I believed I saw before 
me a picture by Ostade so distinctly that it might have been hang- 
ing in a gallery. I saw here actualized the position of objects, the 
light and shade and brownish tints and exquisite harmony, and all 
which is so much admired in his pictures. This was the first time 
that I discovered, in so high a degree, the gift, which I afterwards 
used with more complete consciousness, of bringing before me the 
characteristics of this or that great artist, to whose works I had de- 
voted great attention. This faculty has given me great enjoyment, 
but it has also increased the desire of zealously indulging, from time 
to time, the exercise of a talent which nature seems to have prom- 
ised me." ^ " Dr. Wigan knew a painter who painted three hundred 
portraits, large and small, in one year. The seeming impossibility 
of such a feat was explained by the fact that he required only one 
sitting and painted with great facility. *"When a sitter came,' said 
he, ' I looked at him attentively for half an hour, sketching from 
time to time on the canvas. I wanted no more — I put away my 
canvas and took another sitter. When I wished to resume my first 
portrait, I took the man and set him in the chair, where I saw him 
as distinctly as if he had been before me in his own proper person." ^ 
A somewhat similar story is related of the sculptor David. Re- 
quested to execute the bust of a dying woman, without exciting her 
alarm, he presented himself as a jeweller's man, offering some 
trinkets for her inspection, in the meantime so observing her features 
as to enable him to reproduce a good likeness.' Such cases are cer- 
tainly unusual and extraordinary, but they show that, in less degree, 
the soul has command over the organism in the reinstatement of 
images. 

4. Hallucination. 

It is now easy to understand the nature of hallucina- 
tion. We have found illusion to be a false interpretation 
of a real sense-impression resulting from (a) the environ- 
ment, (b) the organism, or {c) expectation. Hallucination 
is a false perception, without anj material basis, and orig- 



92 PSYCHOLOGY. 

mates in the soul itself. It is not a false interpretation, 
but a false projection of an idea. It may or may not be 
accompanied with delusion, which is a false belief. We 
may have illusions and hallucinations without being de- 
luded, if we do not believe in them as real. 

Sully, in his work on "Illusions," cites some examples of hallu- 
cination. "Malebranche, for example, is said to have heard the 
voice of God calling him. Descartes says that, after a long con- 
finement, he was followed by an invisible person, calling him to 
pursue his search after truth. Dr. Johnson narrates that he once 
heard his absent mother calling him. Byron tells us that he was 
sometimes visited by spectres. Goethe records that he once saw an 
exact counterpart of himself coming towards him. . . . The hallu- 
cinations of the insane are but a fuller manifestation of forces 
that we see at work in normal life. . . . The hallucinations of in- 
sanity are due to a projection of mental images which have, owing 
to certain circumstances, gained a preternatural persistence and 
vividness. Sometimes it is the images that have been dwelt on with 
passionate longing before the disease, sometimes those which have 
grown most habitual through the mode of daily occupation, and 
sometimes those connected with some incident at or near the time of 
the commencement of the disease."^ The dividing-line between 
sanity and insanity is where illusions and hallucinations cease to be 
recognized as such and the person becomes the victim of delusion, 
that is, of false belief. 

5. Unconscious Mental Modifications. 

Sip William Hamilton has developed Leibnitz^s doctrine 
of " obscure ideas " into a theory of " unconscious activi- 
ties of mind," which he employs to explain the reproduc- 
tion of ideas. According to him, ideas are possessions of 
the mind, but pass into a condition of ''latency '^ from 
which they are recalled into a condition of ^' conscious- 
ness." '^Extensive systems of knowledge may, in our 
ordinary state^ lie latent in the mind beyond the sphere 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 93 

of consciousness and will ; but in certain extraordinary 
states of organism, may again come forward into the light, 
and even engross the mind to the exclusion of its every- 
day possessions/' ^ Hamilton's arguments for this doctrine 
ape : {a) The ability to recall events long after every trace 
seems to have passed away ; {i) the minimum object visi- 
ble can be divided into parts which singly cannot be seen, 
but which must together affect the power of perception, 
so that every effect is made up of causes below conscious- 
ness ; (c) a practiced musician is not conscious of every 
movement or note in his music, and yet the whole is made 
up of these parts ; and (d) in a train of ideas we often 
leap over several without being conscious of them, but can 
afterward repeat the train with full consciousness. In 
answer to all this it seems necessary to say simply, that 
we are either conscious of an idea, or we are not ; if we 
are, it is not latent ; if we are not, it is not an element of 
mind at all. That which renders a state psychical is that 
we are conscious of it. 

Bascom seems to have refuted Hamilton in the following passage: 
"Mental and physical phenomena are cut broadly and deeply apart 
by the fact that the one class appears exclusively in consciousness, 
and the other as exclusively out of consciousness. The last are 
actual or possible objects of some organ of perception, are some- 
where located in space, and thus open to the outside action of mind- 
through the senses ; the first are within the mind, evincing their' 
existence exclusively by their effects in consciousness. Not to ex- 
hibit anywhere, to any actual or supposable organ of sense, any 
phenomena, is, in the physical world, not to exist. Existence is 
affirmed only on the ground of some effects, however subtile, in 
sensible objects, and directly or indirectly, in organs of perception. 
We never hear of physical facts above or below space, beyond all 
possible tests of perception ; since such phenomena would be utterly 
unable to manifest this existence, to give any proof of it. The very 



94 PSrOjffOLOGT, 

notion of physical being arises from that of physical effects, tinder 
suitable circumstances open to observation. Thus also should men- 
tal phenomena be regarded. There is likewise only one known field 
for these, — consciousness. All, aside from physical facts, that oc- 
curs outside of this, is necessarily unknowable. An alleged fact, 
which is to be found anywhere as a fact, has but two avenues 
through which it can make itself known, — ^the senses and conscious- 
ness. ... To assert, therefore, the existence of other modifications 
or changes than those which respond to these two methods of know- 
ing, is to a£B.rm some third field wherein events happen whose nature 
is utterly unknown to us, and of whose being we can at most have 
only an hypothetical and inferential knowledge." ^^ 

6. Unconscious Cerebration. 

William B. Carpenter (1813-1885), an eminent English 
physiologist, has substituted for Hamilton's theory of 
'' unconscious mental modifications" a theory of " uncon- 
scious cepebpation," using the term " cepebpation " to sig- 
nify the automatic activity of the cerebrum, or brain. ^^ 
He holds that we are conscious of a part of the activities 
of the brain, of another part we are not conscious. The 
trains of ideas are, therefore, liable to interruption by a 
discontinuance of consciousness as to what some part of 
the brain is doing, and by the sudden emergence into 
consciousness of what the brain has done without our 
knowledge. We cannot deny the activity of the brain, 
but we may very well deny that its movements control 
our trains of ideas. We are conscious of the ability to 
direct the activities of the brain, as we have already 
shown. Besides, we have no evidence that the brain 
elaborates ^^ ideas,'' which we have seen to be psychical 
products, and, therefore, psychical states, not cerebral 
states. The brain does, however, serve as the organ for 
producing ^^ mental imagery." 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 95 

We shall return to the consideration of unconscious cerebration 
in our treatment of Will, in Part III, and need not discuss it any 
farther in this connection. The reason for this postponement of the 
subject is, that we shall find in the processes of elaborative knowl- 
edge and in the activities of Will grounds for believing that cerebra- 
tion does not wholly determine psychical states, but that certain 
psychical states determine cerebration. 

7. Dreams and Reverie. 

In dreams and reverie, we experience a desultory, dis- 
connected, and sometimes grotesque and disordered flow 
of ideas, which we may believe to be suggested by phys- 
ical causes. Excitement, hunger and indigestion are well 
known causes of dreams. In these phenomena there is 
consciousness, but not self -direction. The Will is usually 
powerless in dreams. But in our waking moments, when 
the Will is in command, the course of ideas is self -directed 
and rational. Our ideas are ordered for the accomplish- 
ment of conscious and self -formed purposes. This shows 
the prominence of the psychical factor and demonstrates 
that, although Phantasy employs the organic mechanism 
in reproducing ideas, it is a psychical, not an organic 
activity. Without the elements of consciousness and 
attention, ideas are not reproduced. Cerebration is an 
aid to vivid reproduction, but reproduction is, in the last 
analysis, a process of the soul. 

That cerebral action Is but the servant of the soul is evident 
from another point of view. **The vital power in many and cun- 
ning combinations precedes the nervous system. This system has 
been from the beginning simply the means to farther development 
in a direction previously indicated. The automatic action of the 
nervous system has preceded by a long period its conscious action. 
Consciousness has been superinduced on a system relatively complete 
within itself. The higher is not added for the sake of the lower ; 



m PSYCmLOGY, 

but the lower is put to the uses of the higher. So true is this that 
the organ of consciousness, even after it has been woven into the 
nervous web below it, can be removed, and a large portion of auto- 
matic action remains. That the last sensor state in its passage into 
the cerebrum, is not united causally to the first motor stimuli issuing 
from it, is probable : for {a) if this were true, the cerebrum would 
simply repeat the functions of lower ganglia ; and (&) in that ease, 
consciousness would be a superfluous addition. Plainly, conscious- 
ness intervenes between the two in a way that interrupts simply 
automatic connections. In this fact lies its entire significancy." " 

8. The Operation of Phantasy. 

Phantasy, as the power of reproducing ideas, is the 
power which the soul possesses to create in itself states 
similar to those experienced before, on the presentation of 
a suitable occasion. That occasion may be either : 

(1) The next previous state in which the soul finds 
itself, so that the soul reproduces an idea under the law 
of habit, reviving a mode of consciousness in which it has 
been before; or 

(2) A condition of the nervous system, furnishing a 
ground of reaction similar to that furnished by an orig- 
inal sense-impression; or 

(3) A new perception, placing the soul in conditions 
favorable for the reproduction of a given idea under the 
law of habit. 

In any case, it is a reaction of the conscious self that 
reproduces the idea and, through its connection with the 
physical organism, it can reinstate some, in rare instances 
all, of the physical conditions of perception. As thus 
explained, ideas have no separate and substantive exist- 
ence, but are reproduced in consciousness by a reaction of 
the soul similar to that which originally produced them. 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 07 

This doctrine is a repudiation of every theory of retention, 

mystical, like Hamilton's " unconscious modifications of mind," or 
materialistic, like that of *' unconscious cerebration." Ideas are not 
in any exact sense retained by the mind. If retained at all, they 
are retained out of the mind, but then they lose their character as 
ideas and so are not retained ideas. Dispositions of the brain may 
be retained, but ideas are not. Ideas are capable of being repro- 
duced, and when we have; said that we have said all that is neces- 
sary. The soul possesses no special " conservative faculty," as 
Hamilton calls it, or " retentive faculty," as McCosh calls it. The 
soul has power to reproduce ideas which do not exist anywhere 
except in itself when it reproduces them. The speculations about 
retention are the first crude gropings of thought after the explana- 
tion of the mystery which the poet has so beautifully expressed in 
this passage : 

" Who shall say, 
Whence are those thoughts, and whither tends their way ; 
The sudden images of vanished things 
That o'er the spirit flash, we know not why ? 
Tones from some broken harp's deserted strings- 
Warm sunset hues of summers long gone by— 
A rippling wave— the dashing of an oar— 
A flower-scent floating past our parent's door— 
A word — scarce noted in its hour, i)erchance, 
Yet back returning with a plaintive tone — 
A smile— a sunny or a mournful glance 
Full of sweet meanings, now from this world flown ; 
Are not these mysteries, when to life they start, 
And press vain tears in gushes from the heart f '* 

In treating of Phantasy, we have spoken of '* images," in order 
to convey definite impressions. This word is borrowed from the 
visual sense and usually suggests it. But we can reproduce ideas 
of all our past experiences, whether capable of reduction to the 
form of an image or not. 

" Music, when soft voices die. 
Vibrates in the memory ; 
Odors, when sweet violets sicken, 
Live within the sense they quicken," — 

is a poetical presentation of this truth. It is not quite scientific. 
The mind cannot really revive an odor, but the idea of an odor. 



08 PSYGHOLOCfY. 

That a psychical reaction can reinstate some of the physical condi- 
tions, we have already seen ; still the reproduction is ideal, not real. 
" Odors " do, indeed, " live within the sense they quicken " for some 
time, but finally wholly die away, and no idealist can convince him- 
self that his idea of violets is able to overpower and destroy the 
realistic odors in his nostrils which he finds disgusting. We do not, 
really and physically, reproduce sensations, but ideas of sensations, 
that is, states of soul, not peripheral excitations of the organism. 
The idea of a sensation bears some relation to the sensation which it 
represents, else it would not be an idea of it, but it differs greatly 
from the sensation itself. Happily, our most painful sensations, 
like those of a terrible tooth-ache, pass away so that the idea of our 
past sufferings still serves to warn us of what is painful without 
keeping us in constant agony. We can reproduce more vivid ideas 
of our pleasurable than of our painful sensations. A reason for this 
is that, as we shall see in another connection, painful sensation in- 
volves an injury to the organism and pleasurable sensation is a nor- 
mal stimulation augmenting development, so that a sound organism 
cannot so easily reproduce abnormal as normal conditions. 



9. The Relation of Phantasy to Education. 

Phantasy has a twofold interest to the educator (1) be- 
cause of its aid to other powers, and (2) because it is itself 
capable of training. 

(1) Phantasy as an aid to other powers. — The continu- 
ity and progress of intellectual life depend entirely upon 
the reproduction of ideas. If we lived in present percep- 
tions only. Memory, Imagination, and all the Elaborative 
Powers would be without materials. Even in the study 
of the physical sciences, which seem the most objective and 
presentative of all the sciences, reproduction of ideas is 
necessary for those comparisons and classifications without 
which a science cannot exist. No science consists of a 
mere accumulation of facts, but of facts organized by the 
mind into a system of truth. More than half of any 



B:ElPRESENTATiVE KNOWLEDGE. 99 

science is a mental contribution. Phantasy is not less 
necessary for tlie orator and writer tlian for the man of 
science. They require in the hearer or reader a store of 
representative ideas so associated with words that language 
has the power to revive the images of things in the mind, 
as materials of persuasion, conviction, or entertainment. 
The young take great delight in the simplest tale, if it be 
full of concrete, graphic and image-awakening words. At 
every period of life there is a semi-sensuous pleasure in 
effective word-painting, which is nothing else than the 
awakening of Phantasy to activity through the power of 
language. Whoever possesses a mastery of this art invests 
his speech with a charm that redoubles the force of ab- 
stract thinking. 

(2) The Training of Phantasy. — Phantasy serves the 
highest purpose when it most accurately reproduces ideas 
of past experiences. It has its natural limitations and we 
resort to such aids as pictures, charts, diagrams, and fig- 
ures of speech, especially metaphor and simile, to assist 
us in reproducing past impressions in the form of images. 
A text-book is a collection of such helps to give us in 
brief space the substance of a science. A book on Geog- 
raphy is not like the earth^s surface, but it describes and, 
in a sense, represents to the learner the earth^s surface. 
Dependence upon diagrams and collocations of words on a 
page that may be ^^held in the eye,^^ serves us temporarily 
in passing an examination, but leaves us afterwards with 
no residuum of solid knowledge. It constitutes what is 
known among teachers as " cram." It should be dis- 
couraged in every form, though it has been defended by 
the short-sighted as stimulating the mind to rapid acqui- 
sition and so energizing the faculties. To be useful in 



100 PStCHOLOGT, 

the service of the higher faculties. Phantasy must be 
trained to the accurate representation of things as they 
are. This requires deliberate and patient attention to 
details and to the real objects about which we study. 
After this, charts, diagrams, summaries and other abbrevi- 
ated forms of representation are valuable in condensing 
and systematizing what we have learned in detail. The 
method of reciting from a page of text '' photographed 
in the eye,^' is as pernicious as any method can be. It is 
a substitution of mere images for connected thoughts. 

"Phantasy "is the original form of the word " fancy," which 
the Elizabethan dramatist, Ben Jonson, spells "phcmtsie" in his 
line, 

"Break, Phantsie, from thy cave of cloud." 

The ancient sense of the word justifies the use of it to designate the 
power of reproducing ideas. Lord Monboddo (1714^1779) says : 
"How various soever the pictures oi fancy, the materials, according 
to some, are all derived from sense ; so that the maxim, — JSfihil est in 
intelledu nisi prius fuerit in sensu, — There is nothing in the intellect 
which had not been previously in the sense, — though not true of the 
intellect, holds with regard to the phantasy." ^^ Dugald Stewart 
thus distinguishes between Imagination and Fancy : " The ofBce of 
fancy is to collect materials for the imagination; and, therefore, the 
latter power presupposes the former, while the former does not nec- 
essarily suppose the latter. A man whose habits of association pre- 
sent to him, for illustrating or embellishing a subject, a number of 
resembling or analogous ideas, we call a man of fancy ; but for an 
effort of imagination, various other powers are necessary, particu- 
larly the powers of taste and judgment ; without which we can hope 
to produce nothing that will be a source of pleasure to others. It is 
the power of fancy which supplies the poet with metaphorical lan- 
guage, and with all the analogies which are the foundation of his 
allusions ; but it is the power of imagination that creates the com- 
plex scenes he describes and the fictitious characters he delineates. 
To fancy we apply the epithets of rich or luxuriant ; to imagination, 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 101 

those of beautiful or sublime." ^^ Literary critics distinguish between 
a " work of fancy " and a " work of imagination." The ground 
of discrimination between the '-fanciful" and the ''imaginative" 
in literature is excellently described in the following passage by the 
poet Wordsworth : " Fancy does not require that the materials 
which she makes use of should be susceptible of change in their 
constitution from her touch ; and, where they admit of modifica- 
tion, it is enough for her purpose if they be slight, limited and evan- 
escent. Directly the reverse of these are the desires and demands 
of the imagination. She recoils from everything but the plastic, 
the pliant and the indefinite." ^° We shall resume the distinction be- 
tween Fancy and Imagination in our treatment of the latter power, 
in Section IV of this chapter. 

In this section, on Phantasy, we have considered : — 

1. Definition and Nature of Phantasy, 

2, The Mepresentative Idea, 

3» The modes of JReproducing Images* 
4:, Hallucination, 

5, Unconscious Mental Modifications, 

6, Unconscious Cerebration, 

7, Dreams and Meverie. 

8, The Operation of Phantasy, 

9, The Relation of Phantasy to Education, 

References : (1) Clarke's Visions, p. 212. (2) De Quincey's Confes- 
sions, p. 109. (3) G-alton's Inquiry into Human Faculty, pp. 84, 86. 

(4) Lewes' Problems of Life and Mind, Third Series, pp. 55, 56. 

(5) Goethe's Autobiography, p, 65. (6) Lewes' Problems, p. 455. 
(7) Id., p. 456. (8) Sully's Elusions, pp. 116, 117. (9) Hamilton's 
Lectures on Metaphysics, p. 236. (10) Bascom's Science of Mind, 
pp. 34, 35. (11) Carpenter's Mental Physiology, p. 514 et seq. 
(12) Bascom's Science of Mind, p. 398. (13) Monboddo's Ancient 
3Ietaphysics, Book II., Chapter 7. (14) Stewart's Elements of the 
Philosophy of the Human Mind, Chapter 5. (15) Wordsworth's 
Preface to his Works, 



102 PSYCHOLOGY. 

SECTION III. 

MEMORY. 

1. Definition of Memory. 

Memory is the soul's power to recognize objects and 
ideas, or to know them again as having once been known. 
It presupposes Perception and Phantasy. -We may per- 
ceive objects and reproduce ideas known by us in the past 
either with or without recognition. It adds greatly to the 
clearness of psychological analysis to consider Memory as 
the power of recognition alone, instead of regarding it as 
including conservative, reproductive, and recognitive 
functions, as most psychologists do. 

All the older writers offer an imperfect analysis of representa- 
tive knowledge, attributing to Memory a great variety of functions. 
Even Sully, from whom we should expect careful analysis, treats of 
the phenomena of Phantasy and Memory together, with little dis- 
crimination, under the awkward title, "Reproductive Imagination 
(Memory)," and says, " What is commonly understood by Memory, 
that is to say the recalling of particular impressions and pieces of 
knowledge (as distinguished from the retention of general truths) 
thus falls under the head of reproductive imagination."^ Dewey, 
who more clearly defines Memory as ' ' knowledge of particular 
things once present, but no longer so," fails to attain perfect clear- 
ness, (1) because Memory may act upon something that is actually 
present, as when I recognize to-day the man I met yesterday ; (2) be- 
cause there may be " knowledge of particular things or events once 
present, but no longer so, " without Memory, as when I have in con- 
sciousness the images of past objects and events revived by Phan- 
tasy and distinguish and reflect upon them, without recognizing 
them as ever having been known by me before. His definition ap- 
plies as well to reverie as it does to Memory. The true distinction 
he admits without embracing it in his definition, when he says : 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 103 

" The association of ideas only accounts for the presence of the ob- 
ject or event. The other half is the reference of its present image 
to some past reality. In memory we re-cognize its presence ; i. e., 
we know that it has been a previous element of our experience. We 
place the image in the train of our past experiences, we give it some 
temporal relation ; we refer it to some real object once perceived." ^ 
This is precisely the function of Memory. 

2. Perfect and Imperfect Memory. 

There are perfect and imperfect acts of Memory. A 
perfect act of Memory would involve a reference of an 
object or an idea to its original grouping, that is, a recog- 
nition of the time and place when and where the object or 
idea was known before. Most of our acts of Memory are 
imperfect ; that is, we know many objects and ideas as 
having been known before without being able to assign to 
them their precise times and places. For example, I meet 
a man on the street to-day and recognize his face as one 
that I have seen before. If I can tell when and where, I 
have two elements of knowledge in addition to the recog- 
nition of the face. An absolutely perfect act of Memory 
would involve the complete reinstatement of the psychical 
conditions that attended the organization of the item of 
knowledge at the time when it was first known. 

The German phrenologist, F. J. Gall (1758-1828), went so far as 
to assign to each faculty its own memory, and he has been followed 
in this by most modern physiological psychologists who treat Mem- 
ory as an attribute of the organism, assigning a memory to every 
part and organ of the body, as the " memory of the hand" in play- 
ing an instrument, because the hand seems to recall and repeat its 
previous motions without conscious direction. This is a result that 
might naturally be expected from the traditional mode of treating 
Memory as a reproducing power. The moment we think of it only 
as a recognizing power, or power to know what has been known 



104 ' FSYCEOLOar, 

before, it is lifted out of this mere mechanical order and it is evi- 
dent that it can belong only to a conscious being, capable of know- 
ing and of knowing itself as having known. Nothing like this can 
be predicated of the hand, or the ear, or the eye, or any other bodily 
organ. When we speak of the musician's " memory of the ear" or 
the artist's " memory of the eye," we are using figurative language, 
poetical rather than scientific expressions. Many of these special 
powers depend upon a vivid Phantasy. That there are different de- 
grees of ability to reproduce ideas of different orders, there can be 
no doubt, one being able to reproduce visual and another auditory 
ideas better than others. Thus Mozart could write out the Miserere 
from hearing it twice in the Sistine Chapel, and Yernet could paint 
pictures from recalled impressions. The French psychologist, H. A. 
Taine (1828- ), has given numerous examples of special memo- 
ries, which he very ingeniously tries to explain on a physiological 
basis.^ 

3. Memory of Time. 

The ekment of time is essential to every act of Mem- 
ory. We recognize only what we have known before, that 
is, at some period of past time. As we have seen, an act 
of Memory does not necessarily involve the knowledge of 
the definite time when an object or idea was previously 
known, but this is necessary in perfect acts of Memory. 
In order, then, that any act of Memory should occur, the 
conscious self must know itself as having heen, as well as 
heing. It must also distinguish itself from the successive 
events, or conscious states, of the past. The conception 
of the soul as "a series of sensations" renders any theory 
of Memory impossible. There are two aspects of time 
that have to be considered in giving definiteness to the 
time-element in Memory, (1) succession, or the order in 
which past knowledge has arisen, and (2) duration, or the 
continuance of an experience. Let us examine them sep- 
arately. 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE, 105 

(1) Succession. — We can assign to items of past knowl- 
edge a position in an order of snccession. How are we 
able to do this ? We might conceivably do it by reproduc- 
ing every element in our entire past experience. We 
evidently do not repeat our whole experience. We do, 
however, reproduce ideally certain portions of our past 
experience and assign to a given item of knowledge its 
position in that ideal order. Thus, if I wish to know 
when I saw the man whose face I recognize to-day, I try 
to reproduce the ideas associated with this face until I 
come upon an order of ideas with which I can connect the 
remembered face. I then locate my previous perception 
of it in that ideal order. In this I clearly distinguish self 
from the order of ideas and exemplify in self a relating 
activity that is not found in the spontaneous operation of 
Phantasy. 

(2) Duration. — We are able to know past experiences as 
having occupied a certain duration. Waiting for a train, 
we have, when the train arrives, some estimate of the 
'' length of time " during which we have been waiting. 
This estimate is, however, wholly relative and seems 
'*long^' or " short ^' according to circumstances. Time 
passes quickly when we are much interested, slowly when 
we have nothing to do but wait and expect. This seems 
to depend upon the extent to which the attention dwells 
on the time-relation. When we are occupied with objects 
and ideas, we take little note of time ; when we have 
nothing else to do, we concentrate attention upon the 
passing moments and thus time seems ''longer.'^ The 
knowledge of duration implies self-duration, or the per- 
manence of self during the states of consciousness that 
succeed one another. 



106 PSYCHOLOGY, 

Something has been done toward determining the amount of time 
required for acts of Memory, including as inseparable the act of 
reproduction and the act of recognition. The results so far are not 
very satisfactory ; if, indeed, the conditions of" the problem admit 
of their ever being entirely so. Those who are interested will find 
the following references useful : Ribot's " German Psychology of To- 
day," pp. 272, 274; Galton's ''Inquiry into Human Faculty," pp. 
185, 202 ; and an article by an American psychologist, G. Stanley 
Hall (1845- ), in "Mind" for January, 1886. For "rhythm" in 
our knowledge of Time, see Dewey's "Psychology," pp. 185, 187. 



4. Voluntary and Involuntary Memory. 

We distinguish between recollection and remembrance. 

The difference is that recollection is voluntary, remem- 
brance is involuntary. I am sometimes able to ^''recollect '' 
when I do not '^^ remember. ^^ Eecollection is, however, 
something more than an act of Memory. It is a volun- 
tary act of reproduction followed by an act of recognition. 
For example, I wish to recall the name of a man whom I 
have met but whose name I do not at the moment remem- 
ber. I cannot directly reproduce it by an act of Will, for 
I do not know what it is. I fix the attention upon that 
which I suppose to be closely associated with what I am 
seeking, — the appearance of the man, the place where I 
met him, the person who introduced him, or whatever else 
is already in consciousness and is the ground of my want- 
ing the name. The reproductive power is thus energized 
and in the course of its operation the name occurs to con- 
sciousness and is recognized. That the reproductive and 
the recognitive processes are distinct, is evident from the 
fact that we finally select out of several possible names 
suggested by Phantasy one which we recognize as the one 
sought for. Sometimes the power to reproduce the name 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

is wanting, and then we are unable to recollect. We may, 
however, remember it at some other time when the name 
is spontaneously or accidentally reproduced. We are 
often compelled to wait for the spontaneous action of the 
reproductive power. 

5. Amnesia, or liOSS of Memory. 

Amnesia (from the G-reek «, alphas implying depriva- 
tion, and av7]Giq, mnesis, remembrance), or loss of Mem- 
ory, is a common phenomenon. It is sometimes total, 
sometimes partial, and both the total and partial losses 
are sometimes temporary and sometimes permanent. All 
forms are also sometimes sudden and sometimes progress- 
ive. The principal ascertained causes of amnesia are the 
following : 

(1) Wounds or diseases affecting the brain. — Amnesia 
from these causes is generally sudden, unless the disease 
itself is progressive, in which case the amnesia may be 
progressive also, but it is frequently temporary and some- 
times only partial. 

"The Memory of particular classes of ideas is frequently de- 
stroyed ; that, for examfjle, of a certain language or some other 
branch of knowledge, or of the patient's domestic or social relations. 
Thus, a case was recorded by Dr. Beattie, of a gentleman who after 
a blow on the head, found that he had lost his knowledge of Greek, 
but did not appear to have suffered in any other way. A similar 
case is that of a lad who lay for three days insensible in consequence 
of a severe blow on the head and found himself on recovering to 
have lost all the music he had learned, though nothing else had been 
thus 'knocked out of him.' .... One of the most curious exam- 
ples of this limited loss of Memory occurred in the case of Sir Wal- 
ter Scott, who having produced one of his best works under the 
pressure of severe illness was afterwards found to have forgotten 



I 



108 PSYCHOLOGY. 

entirely what he had thus constructed."* Aphasia, agraphia, etc., 
are frequent forms of amnesia, in which spoken or written words 
are forgotten. A great number and variety of examples may be 
found in Ribot's "Diseases of Memory." In all these cases, there 
is, no doubt, injury to the nervous apparatus employed" in reproduc- 
.ing the images of Phantasy, so that a total or partial, a temporary 
or permanent loss of function is produced. The now classical case, 
quoted from Coleridge by Hamilton, of the servant-girl who sud- 
denly found herself in possession of learned languages, illustrates 
how sickness may restore as well as destroy the Memory of past 
impressions. 5 

(2) Intoxicants and anaesthetics, in such doses as to 
interrupt the use of the reproductive powers, produce 
amnesia by producing a suspension of consciousness. 
The degree of amnesia from this cause is variable, but 
unless the dose is fatal, the loss of Memory is not per- 
manent. 

Alcohol, opium, and other substances of like character, which are 
stimulants in small doses and narcotics in large doses, have the 
effect finally of lowering the tone of the whole nervous system, and 
so of inducing weakness in all the processes connected with it. Per- 
manent deterioration of Memory is, therefore, likely to follow 
from the use of such substances, although the recovery from the 
stupefaction of a single debauch may seem complete. The effect of 
stimulants in undermining the psychical life is evident in cases of 
delirium tremens, in which the diseased centres of perception are 
stirred to the most extravagant vagaries in suggesting non-existent 
images. 

(3) Excessive weariness is a frequent cause of tempo- 
rary amnesia. Almost every one has experienced to some 
extent the influence of exhaustion upon the suspension of 
Memory. 

Sir Henry Holland tells us: *'I descended on the same day two 
very deep mines in the Hartz Mountains, remaining some hours 



REPRESENTATIVJE KNOWLEDGE, 109 

under ground in each. While in the second mine, and exhausted 
both from fatigue and inanition, I felt the utter impossibility of 
talking longer with the German Inspector who accompanied me. 
Every German word and phrase deserted my recollection ; and it was 
not until I had taken food and wine and been some time at rest that 
I regained them." ^ 

(4) Old age is usually attended with progressive am- 
nesia. It is a noticeable fact, however, that the aged 
retain a perfect recollection of the events of their early 
lives, while the occurrences of the day fade from Memory 
in a very short time. 

Carpenter attempts to explain this by reference to the superior 
energy of the vital forces in the brain in youth and their decay with 
advancing years. "As the nutritive activity diminishes, the waste 
becomes more active than the renovation ; and it would seem that 
while (to use a commercial analogy) the 'old-established houses' 
keep their ground, those later firms whose basis is less secure, are 
the first to crumble away, — the nutritive activity, which yet suffices 
to maintain the original structure, not being capable of keeping the 
subsequent additions in working order.'"' The ready facility with 
which the "commercial analogy" fits in, though the subject-matter 
is so remote, suggests the fascination and the danger of all mere 
analogy, such as that upon which this explanation is built. Still, 
the theory serves to explain the disposition of a centre to reproduce 
states to which it has been accustomed, and does really help us to 
understand why the images of youth should be more easily repro- 
duced in the mind of an aged man than the images of yesterday. 
Another and important element is diminishing attention in later 
years. 

6. Relation of Memory to the Organism. 

That Memory is dependent to some extent upon the 
condition of the nervous organism, is evident from the 
facts already observed. If Phantasy fails to reproduce 
ideas of the past. Memory must fail to recognize them. 



110 PSYCHOLOGY, 

It has already been pointed out that Phantasy employs 
the nervous organism in reproducing images and yet with- 
out being wholly identified with the organic processes. 
The act of recognition, however, is a purely intellectual 
act, and the only dependence of Memory upon the organ- 
ism is involved in its dependence upon subsidiary opera- 
tions of Phantasy. 

Ladd repudiates all physiological explanations of Memory. 

**None of these physical conditions immediately concerns the very 
mental activity which constitutes the essence of conscious memory. 
What is explained, if any thing, is simply why I remember one 
thing rather than another — granting the mind^s power to remember 
at all. This power is a spiritual activity wholly sui generis, and 
incapable of being conceived of as flowing out of any physical con- 
dition or mode of energy whatever. . . . We must insist upon the 
complete inability of physiology to suggest an explanation for con- 
scious memory, in so far as it is Memory — that is, in so far as it most 
imperatively calls for explanation."^ 

7. Relation of Memory to Other Powers. 

The dependence of all the higher powers of Intellect 
upon Memory hardly requires illustration. Our immedi- 
ate knowledge is confined to a very narrow circle of facts, 
and does not afford us a very extended illustration of 
general principles. It is through our recognition of 
past knowledge that we are able to interpret and under- 
stand even the little which the present furnishes. It is 
through acts of Memory that we are able to detect those 
resemblances upon which all our generalizations are built. 
Through the aid of Memory we exercise that function of 
Assimilation which broadens and deepens the knowledge 
acquired through the function of Discrimination. It en- 
ables us to interpret the present in the light of the past. 



r:epresentative knowlwdge. m 

it has frequently been affirmed that men of remarkable Memory 
are weak in other intellectual powers. Hamilton has denied and 
refuted this error, citing numerous examples in support of the posi- 
tion that a good Memory is necessary to intellectual greatness. 

Of Scaliger it was said, ' ' He had read nothing (and what had he not 
read?) which he could not perfectly remember." Grotius and Pascal 
never forgot any thing they had ever read or thought. Leibnitz and 
Buler, both great mathematicians and men of the most original 
minds, could repeat the whole of the ".^neid." A. von Humboldt 
and Ritter, the geographer, possessed vast accumulations of con- 
crete facts with great powers of thought. Niebuhr in history and 
statistics, Goethe in literature and art, and Agassiz in natural 
history, were men of remarkable Memory and distinguished general 
powers. 

8. Relation of Memory to Educationt 

It is evident that all the processes of education are 
dependent upon Memory, for what we cannot recollect 
we cannot use for any intellectual purpose. How can the 
teacher develop the power of Memory in the learner ? 
(1) By directing his acquisition with reference to recogni- 
tion, and (2) by exercising him in the prompt and accu- 
rate recollection of what he has learned. 

(1) Acquisition with reference to Recognition. — Our 
ability to recall knowledge in the future depends largely 
upon the circumstances of its acquisition. Such physical 
conditions as general good health and vigor of brain are 
conducive to permanent acquisitions, while disease and 
weakness are obstructive. Psychical conditions, such as 
interest in the subject and attention to details, also affect 
the durability of knowledge. There is, moreover, the 
essential condition of sufficient time for distinct impres- 
sions to be made and for a certain amount of repetition. 
But when the conditions are all as favorable as possible, 



112 PSYCHOLOGY. 

much depends upon the method of acquisition. There is 
a natural method and there is an artificial method. The 
natural method consists in annealing the new knowledge 
to the old by a process of assimilation, thus organizing it 
as a part of the mental life. The artificial method con- 
sists in holding the new knowledge hy itself, as something 
irrelevant to the integrity of the mental life, by some 
superficial or transient tie of association,, such as the ap- 
pearance of a sentence on a page. A student of Geometry 
will sometimes recite a demonstration word for word as it 
appears in the book, reproducing the figure also, with the 
page before his mind's eye, and in a week will have no 
recollection of either demonstration or figure. The nat- 
ural method would require such an apprehension of the 
theorem and proof that the learner could use other lan- 
guage and a different figure in the demonstration. The 
new knowledge would then be forced to enter into com- 
position with previous knowledge and be a permanent 
acquisition. The real object in teaching Geometry is to 
implant in the mind (in addition to the discipline in rea- 
soning) a mathematical truth, not simply a string of words 
and a figure with particular letters. One cannot be justly 
expected to remember what he has never learned, and yet 
teachers sometimes hold students responsible for what they 
were never taught to learn. If the words of the book 
satisfy the teacher, the learner naturally infers that it is 
these alone which he is to acquire. Accordingly, he learns 
and forgets them in the same week, and what he should 
have acquired he has never learned. 

(2) Practice in Recollection. — When the learner has 
acquired knowledge in the proper manner, the teacher 
may aid him by calling into exercise his power of recol- 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 113 

lection. The student must recite what he has learned, 
that is, give an account of his acquisition. However 
urgent reluctant learners may be in advocating other 
plans, no method of instruction can ever supersede the 
method of recitation, without intellectual loss. The act 
of recollection itself helps to fix knowledge and prepare it 
for future use, and until it is so prepared it is practically 
valueless, even if it can be said to have existence. The 
worst conceivable teacher, from an intellectual point of 
view, is one who does all the reciting, or a great part of it. 
A better service is to show the student how to recollect 
what he has studied by drawing out his knowledge, kindly 
but inexorably, along the lines of association which he 
ought to haf e established. If this process is a revelation 
of ignorance, it is certain that the learner has been either 
incapable or neglectful of the task assigned him. 

Mnemonic, inventions, or systems of artificial memory, have been 
numerous and often ingenious. The earliest known is that of the 
Greek poet Simonides, who lived in the fifth century before Christ. 
Every subsequent age has been prolific in them. Some of them are 
the devices of charlatans to obtain money from the unsophisticated. 
They usually consist in a system of associations by which dates, 
names, etc., may be recalled. For example, every number may be 
denoted by a consonant, let us say, 1 = &, 8 = c or A;, and 1 = d. 
Now by filling in with non-significant vowels, we may make a word, 
say becked, which ought to stand for 1887. In this manner, whole 
lists of dates may be learned by recalling words, instead of dates, 
which is supposed to be easier for some people. Sometimes mne- 
monic rhymes are employed and other contrivances of a similar 
nature. Usually more time and mental effort are employed in the . 
childish occupation of forming artificial associations than would be 
required to learn the fact outright. Occasionally, however, there is 
real convenience, as in the familiar rhyme noting the number of 
days in the different months of the year, beginning, ''Thirty days 
hath September," etc. 



114 PSYCHOLOGY. 

In this Section, on "Memory," we have consid-* 
ered :— 

1, Definition of Memory, 

2, Perfect and Imperfect Memory. 

3, Memory of Time, 

4, Voluntary and Involuntary Memory, 

5, Amnesia, or Loss of Memory, 

6, Relation of Memory to the Organism, 

7, Melation of Memory to Other Powers, 

8, Helation of Memory to Education, 

References : (1) Sully's Outlines of Psychologyy p. 223. (2) 
Dewey's Psychology, p. 179. (3) Taine On Intelligence, Part I., 
Book II., Chap. I. (4) Carpenter's Mental Physiology, pp. 443, 444. 
(5) Hamilton's Lectures on Metaphysics, pp. 339, 240 ; quoted from 
Coleridge's Biographia Liter aria, I., p. 117 ; and cited by Carpen- 
ter, Mental Physiology, pp. 437, 438. (6) Carpenter's Mental Phys- 
iology, p. 441. (7) Id., p. 442. (8) Ladd's Physiological Psychol- 
ogy, p. 556. 



SECTION lY* 

IMAGINATION. 
1. Definition of Imagination. 

Imagination is the soul's power to recombine represent- 
ative ideas. The mere reproduction of ideas is the func- 
tion of Phantasy, as we have defined it. Recognition is 
the function of Memory. But in addition to the revival 
and remembrance of past experiences, we have the power 
to take the individual elements thus reinstated in con- 
sciousness and combine them into new forms. This, and 
not the mere imaging of ideas, is the proper sphere of Im- 
agination. 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 115 

The word " Imagination " has been variously defined and em- 
ployed by writers on Psychology, and, following these, we should 
find ourselves in the utmost confusion. Let us turn, then, for a 
description of the power, to those who have been conspicuous in the 
possession and use of it. Wordsworth says : *' Imagination, in the 
sense of the poet, has no reference to images that are merely a faith- 
ful copy, existing in the mind, of absent external objects ; but is a 
word of higher import, denoting operations of the mind upon these 
objects and processes of creation or composition governed by fixed 
laws." ^ Shaicespeare has the same idea of Imagination : 

"And as Imagination bodies forth 
The form of things unknown, the poet's pen 
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation and a name." 

Washington Irving observes : "It is the divine attribute of the Im- 
agination that it is irrepressible, unconfinable ; that, when the real 
world is shut out, it can create a world for itself, and with a necro-* 
raantic power can conjure up glorious shapes and forms and brilliant 
visions, to make solitude populous and irradiate the gloom of the 
dungeon." ^ 

2. The Creative Energy of Imagination. 

An act of Imagination may be (1) Associative, as when 
one, having reproduced by Phantasy the ideas of a man 
and a horse, takes the horse's head and places it upon the 
man's shoulders, or iregards them as twice, or half, the 
original size ; (2) Penetrative, as when one seeks out that 
element in an object which constitutes its heart and life 
and treats the ideas connected with it from this central 
starting-point ; or (3) Contemplative, as when one regards 
an object or idea in a peculiar manner and is by this 
led to employ other images and ideas in connection with 
it in conformity to this manner of regarding it. In all 
these forms of imaginative activity, creative energy, in 
varying degrees, is exercised. '^ To imagine, in this high 



116 ~ PSYCHOLOGY. 

sense of the word, is to realize the ideal, to make intelligi- 
ble truths descend into the forms of visible nature, to rep- 
resent the invisible by the visible, the infinite by the 
finite/^ 3 

This division of the activities of Imagination is taken from John 
Rusk in (1819- ), the English art critic and writer, whose views 
of the subject, involving many of the ideas previously enunciated 
by the English poet Leigh Hunt, in his essay on " Imagination and 
Fancy," are the most suggestive to be found in the English language. 
The student should read the whole of Section II., in the second 
volume of "Modern Painters," where the distinctions between Im- 
agination Associative, Penetrative and Contemplative, are fully- 
illustrated. For the benefit of those to whom the work may be inac- 
cessible, the following is transcribed, descriptive of the mode in 
which the highest imaginative activity seizes its materials: "It 
never stops at crusts or ashes, or outward images of any kind, it 
ploughs them all aside and plunges into the very central fiery heart, 
nothing else will content its spirituality. Whatever semblances and 
various outward shows and phases its subject may possess, go for 
nothing, it gets within all fence, cuts down to the root, and drinks the 
very vital sap of that it deals with : once there, it is at liberty to 
throw up what new shoots it will, so always that the true juice and 
sap be in them, and to prune and twist them at its pleasure and bring 
them to fairer fruit than grew on the old tree ; but all this pruning 
and twisting is work that it likes not and often does ill ; its function 
and gift are the getting at the root, its nature and dignity depend 
on its holding things always by the heart. Take its hand from off 
the beating of that, and it will prophesy no longer ; it looks not in 
the eyes, it judges not by the voice, it describes not by the outward 
features ; all that it affirms, judges or describes, it affirms from 
within." 4 

This prepares us for the following distinction between Imagina- 
tion and Fancy, so finely illustrated at length : "The entirely unim- 
aginative mind sees nothing of the object it has to dwell upon or 
describe and is, therefore, utterly unable, as it is blind itself, to set 
any thing before the eyes of the reader. The Fancy sees the outside^ 
and is able to give a portrait of the outside, clear, brilliant and full 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDaE, 117 

of detail. The Imagination sees the heart and inner nature and 
makes them felt, but is often obscure, mysterious and interrupted 
in its giving of outer detail. Take an instance. A writer with 
neither Imagination nor Fancy, describing a fair lip, does not see it, 
but thinks about it and about what is said of it, and calls it ' well- 
turned,' or 'rosy,' or 'delicate,' or 'lovely,' or afflicts us with some 
other quenching and chilling epithet. Now hear Fancy speak, — 

'Her lips were red, and one was thin, 
Compared with that was next her chin, 
Some bee had stung it newly.' 

The real, red, bright being of the lip is there in a moment. But it 
is all outside ; no expression yet, no mind. Let us go a step farther 
with Warner, of fair Rosamond struck by Eleanor. 

* With that she dashed her on the lips 
So dyed double red ; 
Hard was the heart that gave the blow, 
Soft were those lips that bled.' 

The tenderness of mind begins to mingle with the outside color, the 
Imagination is seen in its awakening. Next Shelley, — 

' Lamp of life, thy lips are burning 
Through the veil that seems to hide them, 
As the radiant lines of morning 
Through thin clouds, ere they divide them.* 

There dawns the entire soul in that morning ; yet we may stop, if we 
choose, at the image still external, at the crimson clouds. The Im- 
agination is contemplative rather than penetrative. Last, hear 
Hamlet, — 

' Here hung those lips that I have kissed, I know not how oft. Where be your 
gibes now, your gambols, your songs, your flashes of merriment that were wont to 
set the table on a roar ? ' 

There is the essence of lip and the full power of the Imagination." ^ 
It will be useful to the learner who would apply these distinctions 
in literary criticism, to add the following lines from Milton, in 
which the psychical activity employed in each line is marked at the 
§nd ; 



118 PSYCHOLOGY. 

"Bring the rathe primrose, that forsaken dies, (Imagination) 
The tufted crow-toe and pale jessamine, (Nugatory) 
The white pink and the pansy freaked with jet, (Fancy) 
The glowing violet, (Imagination) 

The musk rose and the well-attired woodbine, (Fancy, vulgar) 
With cowslips wan, that hang the pensive head, (Imagination) 
And every flower that sad embroidery wears." (Mixed) « 



3. The Character of Imaginative Activity. 

Imaginative activity is purely psychical. It admits of 
no physiological explanation. It is not simple fusion of 
ideas, it is creative. Mix two colors, and you have a third 
color ; but you have destroyed the other two in the pro- 
duction of the third. In imaginative activity, we do not 
thus destroy the primary ideas of Phantasy which we 
employ in our recombinations. Here all physical analogy 
fails. The lower animals have Phantasy, but not Imagina- 
tion, as we have employed the term. They create or invent 
nothing. Hence, they are stationary, and a dog of the 
nineteenth century is like a dog of the first. Man alone 
possesses this higher power, which is the constructor of 
his arts, his sciences, his literatures, and his philosophies. 

Lotze has well illustrated this truth in the following passage : 
"We know that if the idea of ' blue,' and at the same time that of 
'red,' originates within us, the two by no means mingle and produce 
'violet.' Were this, however, to happen, then a third simple idea 
would merely have taken the place of the two others, and a com- 
parison of these two would have been made impossible by their van- 
ishing. Every comparison, and in general every relation between 
two elements (in this case, ' red ' and '' blue '), presupposes that both 
points of relation remain separate, and that an ideating activity 
passes over from the one, a, to the other, b, and at the same time 
becomes conscious of that alteration which it has experienced in 
this transition from the act of forming the idea of a to that of form- 
ing b."' 

This truly creative process of Imagination is passed over in silenco 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. HI) 

bjr physiological psychologists, and their reticence seems to justify 
the acute remark of Ruskin, that those **who are constantly endeav- 
oring to fathom and explain the essence of the faculties of mind, are 
sure in the end to lose sight of all that cannot be explained." The 
only explanation of imaginative activity, in its higher forms, is a 
reference of it to a mode of being quite different from the functions 
of matter and motion. The reality of such a being is intellectually 
as acceptable and experimentally as certain as the existence of the 
ether mentally required as a ground of explanation of the phenomena 
of light. The belief in this hyper-organic reality is as little meta- 
physical as the physicist's belief in luminiferous ether, and, indeed, 
is more clearly demonstrable. 

4. The Limitations of Imagination. 

It is evident that the products of Imagination can con- 
tain no elements not originally furnished by presentation 
and reproduced by Phantasy. All the creations of art, 
therefore, however complex or admirable they may be, are 
only new combinations of old presentations modified by 
Imagination in their recombination. They have nothing 
new but their relations. These, however, are exceedingly 
varied, so that effects are produced which are entirely 
new. But even these relations are limited by certain laws 
of combination, for some forms of composition are ren- 
dered impossible by the nature of things and others by 
the requirements of taste. The various spheres of imag- 
inative production are thus governed by inflexible laws, 
which constitute the principles of the arts. 

" No human mind has ever conceived a new animal. For it is 

evident that in an animal every part implies all the rest ; that is, 
the form of the eye involves the form of the brow and nose, these 
the form of the forehead and lip, these of the head and chin, and so 
on, so that it is physically impossible to conceive of any one of these 
members, unless we conceive the relation it bears to the whole ^ni- 



120 PSYCHOLOGY. 

mal ; and as this relation is necessary, certain and complicated, 
allowing of no license or inaccuracy, tlie Intellect utterly fails under 
the load, and is reduced to mere composition, putting the bird's 
wing on men's shoulders, or half the human body to half the horse's, 
in doing which there is no action of Imagination, but only of Fancy ; 
though in the treatment and contemplation of the compound form 
there may be much Imagination." ^ We may at once think of the 
centaur, a man's body on a horse's shoulders, as a product of Imagi- 
nation frequently employed in ancient poetry and even represented 
in sculpture. That there is no real Imagination here is evident from 
this : such a composite has two digestive and arterial systems, vio- 
lating all organic analogies. The centaur is, then, a work of Fancy, 
not of Imagination. The first designer of this monstrosity laid two 
images side by side, he did not grasp the idea of an animal and give 
that idea embodiment. Accordingly, we have the grotesque, some- 
thing unnatural and incongruous, fit to amuse children, not broadly 
and universally human in design. In literature, Munchausen's 
Tales are fanciful, rather than imaginative ; they amuse but do not 
satisfy. All high art aims at the ideal, which Imagination alone, 
not Fancy, can realize. ' 

5. Varieties of Imagination. 

Imagination, in its true sense, has one main end, the 
pursuit of the ideal. It may, however, be applied to ends 
in a great yariety of spheres. Without regarding the 
classification as exhaustive, but simply as illustrative, we 
may mention the following leading varieties : 

(1) Scientific Imagination is that form of imaginative 
activity in which the end is to realize more completely the 
true relations of things, under the guidance of Intellect. 
This appears as {a) Mathematical Imagination, when the 
aim is to realize the relations of space and number ; 
(J) IVIechanical Imagination, when the aim is to realize 
combinations of natural forces for the accomplishment of 
some practical end ; and [c) Philosophical Imagination, 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 121 

when the aim is to realize the relations of cause and effect 
in the order of actual existence. 

Science in every form is much more than accumulated facts. It 
is the truth with regard to its subject-matter, and this involves a 
knowledge of the connection, significance, and laws of facts. It may 
seem at first thought that no department of knowledge is less in- 
debted to Imagination or less connected with its exercise than 
Mathematics. Reflection, however, shows that it is quite other- 
wise. The mathematician deals with units of number and magni- 
tude represented by symbols, but signifying realities. The geometer, 
for example, deals with lines, surfaces, and solids whose actual and 
universal relations are to be demonstrated. If the student wiU 
attempt the demonstration of a geometrical theorem without any 
physical figure, depending entirely upon the contents of his mind, 
he will realize the relation of Imagination to mathematics. Some 
teachers have insisted upon this mode of demonstration as a means 
of discipline to Imagination. A few exercises in Inventional Geom- 
etry, pursued on this plan, will illustrate the value of a powerful 
Imagination to the geometer. 

The importance of Imagination to the inventor hardly requires 
discussion. To construct such a complex mechanism as a locomo- 
tive engine, demands Imagination not less than to paint a picture. 
Not only its parts, but their connections and inter-relations, must be 
distinctly apprehended. The locomotive was an idea in the mind of 
George Stephenson, and every element of it was evolved through a 
process of Imagination, before the first actual locomotive appeared 
before the eyes of men. So also the steam-boat existed in the mind 
of Robert Fulton and the telephone in that of Thomas A. Edison 
as inventions of Imagination destined to revolutionize the life of 
society. 

Philosophical Imagination searches after causes, striving to ex- 
plain phenomena. The operation of Imagination in the savage is very 
rudimentary, and so we must suppose it to have been in primaeval 
man. A storm-cloud gathers ; lightning flashes ; thunder rolls ; the 
rain pours out upon the earth. The observing savage wishes to know 
the cause of these phenomena. The untutored Hindu imagines that 
the elephant of Indra is concealed in the clouds and throws down 
water gathered from the sea with his trunk, When observation has 



122 PSYCHOLOGY, 

become more definite, it is noticed that vapor rises from the surface 
of water. It is observed that this occurs especially when heat is 
present. Then, the resemblance between the- vaporization of water 
and the formation of clouds is detected. Finally, the true connec- 
tion of phenomena is disclosed and clouds are imagined as the prod- 
ucts of the sun's action upon the ocean, drawing up moisture in a 
vaporized form, which falls when it is condensed. In like manner 
the Greek speaks of the lightning as the fiery bolt of Zeus. The 
electrical phenomena are much more difficult to bring into imagina- 
tive connection with ordinary events than those of evaporation. 
Long after Zeus is dethroned, men continue to think of lightning as 
a personally caused phenomenon and to connect it with the wrath of 
a deity. At last, the Imagination of a Franklin connects the phe- 
nomena of the thunderstorm with others already known and gathers 
electricity from the cloud as he would from the back of a cat in the 
dark. Thus most of the advances in scientific knowledge have been 
made by leaps of Imagination, afterward verified, and not by the 
Baconian method of aggregating facts.® Every mass of facts is 
dumb and unintelligible until the light of genius reveals their law. 
The scientific form of Imagination is akin to the poetic, as is illus- 
trated by the discoveries of the great poet Goethe, who was the first 
to apply the idea of evolution to the vegetable kingdom in his doc- 
trine of the "metamorphosis of plants," though he has not been 
followed in his "doctrine of color." Faraday, Tyndall, Darwin, 
Helmholtz and other great leaders in science, have all been men of 
great Imagination. The faculty seems to assume a deeper tinge of 
the poetic tendency in the great system-makers of philosophy, like 
Plato, Fichte, Schelling and Hegel. While Imagination does not 
always attain to truth, it boldly soars for it and, even though, like 
the eagle, it sometimes misses its prey, it dwells in a lofty region. 

(2) Artistic Imagination is that form of imaginative ac- 
tivity in which the end is to realize such relations as will 
give pleasure to our aesthetic nature, under the guidance 
of Sensibility. This appears in the fine arts as (a) Poet- 
ical, {h) Pictorial and {c) Architectural Imagination, accord- 
ing as it deals with words as the symbols of ideas, with 
lines ^nd colors as representing appearances, or "^ith 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE, 123 

masses of matter as the constituents of buildings and 
similar structures. Painting and Sculpture are arts cre- 
ated by Pictorial Imagination, both having for their object 
the production of a picture ; the former in both lines and 
colors on a flat surface, the latter in lines alone but usually 
in three dimensions of space. Music is inseparably asso- 
ciated with Poetry, so that both must be considered as 
products of Poetic Imagination. 

The aim of Art is to satisfy feeling rather than to discover truth. 
There are laws which it cannot violate, because they are laws of 
Intellect and laws of Nature, and feeling is only one phase of that 
complex psychical life which includes inseparably the phenomena of 
knowing and feeling. We cannot feel that an object is beautiful 
when we know that it is not. There are not for Art the same infalli- 
ble tests and standards which are found for knowledge in the laws of 
thought. Feeling is subjective and personal, not objective and uni- 
versal, and while knowledge exists for all and may be shared by all, 
feeling exists for the individual only and is variable according to 
personal differences. Hence the old aphorism, " De gustibus non dis- 
putandum est," "There must be no disputing about tastes." The 
same productions are not equally pleasing to all. The consentient 
judgment of the majority of the cultivated is, therefore, the only 
standard and this, from the conditions of the case, must be variable. 
Artistic greatness consists in producing such creations of art as 
transcend the provincial and temporary taste and satisfy the best 
judges in all times and places. If we ask. Who are the best judges ? 
we can only answer, Those who have most culture. If we ask what 
"culture" is, we cannot do better than to adopt Matthew Arnold's 
definition, "The knowledge of the best that has been known and 
thought in the world." If all these ideas seem to move in a circle, 
as they confessedly do, it is because, as has been explained, this is 
the very nature of feeling, which is not a form of "apprehending 
truth but of apprehending pleasure. The aim of the artist is to 
please. Whether or not he succeeds, depends entirely upon his mood 
and ours. 

The essence of poetry is feeling. It ma^ be defined, 



124 PSYCHOLOGY. 

ideas in emotive language." Emotive ideas are such as stir emotion. 
Emotive language is such as creates and satisfies emotion. It must 
be rhythmical, because all emotion moves in rhythm. Pause is 
unnatural until it is spent and compulsory pause is its annihilation. 
Hence, meter, rhyme and alliteration are the traits of poetic lan- 
guage. But we are here more concerned with the poetic faculty. 
This is Imagination. It is moved by feeling and in turn its move- 
ments awaken feeling. As the greatest of poets has said, — 

" The lunatic, the lover and the poet 
Are of Imagination all compact." 

These are the three representatives of emotion in its three types of 
excitement : lunacy, love and poesy. Each is moved by ideas rather 
than objective realities ; the first to the wrong interpretation of his 
perceptions, the second to the glorification of his idealized entrancer, 
the third to the creation of ideal beings to meet the needs of his 
etherialized feelings. Shakespeare has opened the heart of a great 
poet in disclosing this association of emotive perturbation and imag- 
inative activity. It is through this union of Imagination and feeling 
that poetry and music are naturally connected. Music is pure 
rhythm without images. Words set to music suggest the images 
and both music and poetry reach their climax of perfection in this 
wedding of ideas to emotions. Hence all the earliest poems were 
sung or chanted ; hence every novice in reading verse instinctively 
sings it. 

Pictorial power has a wide range. It began with the rude 
scratching of an animal's outline upon a flat bone of its own body 
when the feast was over. It is difficult to trace the development of 
pictorial art by consecutive steps and quite unnecessary here. The 
perspective of painting is a late discovery and sculpture had ad- 
vanced far before painting had existence. Form first and color 
afterward, has been the order of progress. Painting rises out of 
sculpture and becomes distinct from it when it is seen that relief 
can be given by the use of lines and the distribution of shades, without 
actually employing three dimensions. The study of sculpture and 
painting throws great light upon psychologic history, for the prod- 
ucts of pictorial art reveal the prevailing sentiments of every age 
which they represent. The connection with the religious sentiment 
is very close and the earliest plastic art was consecrated to the repro- 



RBPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 125 

duction of the gods. The progress from the huge, grotesque aggre- 
gation of many heads upon one body in the old Indie divinities to 
the symmetrical and ideal human figures of the gods of Greece, 
marks a growth of Intellect, a refinement of Sensibility and a final 
dominance of Reason. 

Architecture is not identical with construction. In so far as it is 
a fine art, it is controlled by aesthetic feeling rather than by utility. 
The temples upon which its creati^^e power first exerted itself were 
shrines built by Imagination as the dwelling-places of Imagination. 
They were parts of a grand national cultus and every element of 
construction had relation to the central idea of the divinity whom 
the Imagination placed in the cella of the temple. All the other arts 
conspired to produce effects upon the worshipper. Sculpture and 
painting kept the idea of the indwelling deity before the eye, solemn 
chants conveyed it to the ear, incense wafted it to the nostril. Thus 
philosophy, which devised the national cultus of the ancient nations, 
clothed itself with the garment woven by Imagination and domi- 
nated through the power of visible forms the life of great peoples. Its 
doctrines assumed the garb of myths and theogonies and combined 
with the outward presentations to constitute a vast system acfcepted 
as real in the minds of men. All this was the work of no single 
master, but the spontaneous creation of nations. It illustrates the 
reality and the potency of the religious sentiment. It illustrates too 
the power of the sensuous in man to distort and pervert the religious 
sentiment itself and to substitute for communion of spirit a passion 
and veneration for form. 

(3) Ethical Imagination is that form of imaginative 
activity in which the end is to realize an ideal of char-j 
acter and conduct such as will satisfy the convictions olj 
conscience, under the guidance of Will. It is the essen- 
tial element in all personal and social advancement in 
morality and realization of the spiritual ideal. 

Everything ethical, or moral, has relation to some end. Some 
ends are recognized by men as right, others as wrong. It is possible 
for us to select pleasure, power, fame, or wealth as the end of life. 
A little r^ection, however, shows that if an individual lives solely 



126 PSYCHOLOaY. 

for such a limited and personal end, his life is hoi what ii oUglit to 
he, is not ideally right. We have the power to imagine the ideal in 
character and conduct. This is the ethical ideal. It is that which 
ought to he. How we reach such ethical ideals and the ground of 
obligation on which they rest are topics to be discussed in treating 
the science of right conduct, or Ethics. We have here simply to 
note the psychological fact that we can form such ideals, and when 
we come to treat of the ethical emotions, we shall see that we have 
feelings of obligation to conform practically in our lives to such 
ideals as these. We are accustomed to speak of books, pictures and 
other products of the Imagination as "good" or *' bad, "that is, 
from a moral as distinguished from an artistic point of view, accord- 
ing as they do or do not conform to moral ideals. A book or picture 
is not *'bad" because it is a work of Imagination, that is, because it 
is fiction, but because it has an immoral effect upon those who are 
led to admire it and sometimes, insensibly, when there is no con- 
scious admiration. Some of the best books in the world and nearly 
all the great pictures are products of Imagination, but of this faculty 
as pursuing and realizing the deepest truth, for the deepest truth is 
truth of principle, not of particular fact. In this clearer light, cer- 
tain works of fiction may be highly valued for their moral power, 
presenting as they do the ideal rather th^ the actual excellence of 
human attainment, and thus stimulating all with a desire to realize 
the unattained. 

6. Expectation. 

A practically important application of Imagination is in 
expectation, or the imaginative anticipation of the future. 
It has sometimes been described as an '' inverted memory/' 
a projection of the experiences of the past into the future, 
with the time-relations inverted. This is very inadequate. 
We seldom expect the future to be exactly like the past. 
Nor is expectation a mere spontaneous representation by 
means of Phantasy. The true analysis is this : Phantasy 
revives former experiences ; Memory recognizes them as 
belonging to the sphere of reality, not mere im^es such 



IiEPRJE!SENTATlVE KNOWLEDgM. 12^ 

as are presented in dreams ; Imagination singles out such 
as are likely to be repeated in the circumstances of the 
future that will probably exist. Thus^ in making a jour- 
ney which we have made before, we may expect a repeti- 
' tion of some of the former experiences with others left out 
and still others added, according to changed conditions. 
The whole process is one of idealization in which the soul 
is operative as a relating agent. If expectation were per- 
fect in details, we should possess the gift of prophecy, but 
our limitations are so numerous that the future is seldom 
just what we expect it to be. The unknown factors pre- 
vent our realizing our expectations. 

It is evident that, if we may assume, as every rational mind does, 
that Hke causes will produce like effects, we possess the power of 
prophecy just in proportion as we comprehend all the causes that will 
affect the future. Within a short range, this is sometimes possible. 
The prediction of the weather for the day may not be difficult in the 
morning to the '" weather-wise " and to the scientific meteorologist 
approaches certainty. The prediction of an eclipse is a matter of 
absolute certainty to the astronomer, for the factors influencing the 
event are few and simple, and the mathematical computation may 
be free from error. But if the stars should fall I We are not pre- 
pared for this emergency I 

7. Uses of Imagination. 

From what has preceded, it is apparent that no faculty 
of the soul is more useful than Imagination, as here un- 
derstood. Progress in science, art and morality, man^s 
three most precious possessions, Wi>ald be impossible with- 
out it. The ordinary affairs of life require its constant 
aid ; for no plan could be formed, no invention could be 
originated, without it. All the leaders of the world's life 
have been men of Imagination. Its inventors have formed 



128 PSYCHOLOOY. 

new combinations of forces, its generals and statesmen 
have foreseen new dispositions of nations and empires, its 
reformers have created ideals that were better than reali- 
ties, its writers have conceived of characters superior to 
living men and women, and its moralists have erected 
standards of virtue and nobility higher than those exist- 
ing about them. 

8. The Dangers of Imagination. 

So powerful an activity must have its dangers both for 
the intellectual and the moral life. The ability to create, 
involves responsibility for what is created. The false and 
the inartistic are quite as possible for an imaginative mind 
as the true and artistic. There is a power in ideal presence 
to make us believe what Imagination produces. Errors of 
every kind are produced through the influence of Imagi- 
nation. The false in philosophy and the perverted in art 
are conspicuous in the world. One may come to despise 
the real because it is forbidding, and to love the romantic 
because it is fascinating. The mathematician sometimes 
demands for every assertion a proof like his demonstra- 
tion, without comprehension of the grounds of certitude 
in the realm of induction and probability. He imagines 
demonstration possible where it is not. The inventor may 
easily become a visionary and plunge himself and his fam- 
ily into poverty and distress. The philosopher may be a 
n.ere dreamer, substituting his ideas for realities. The 
artist may easily mistake personal idiosyncrasies of taste 
for canons of art. The moralist also may confuse propen- 
sities and obligations. The eccentricities of genius are 
notorious and the harmony and safety of life are often 



representativ:e knowledge. 129 

sacrificed for whims and conceits. The stronger the 
imaginative tendency in a person, the more he needs the 
corrective of ^^ common sense/' the real as it is appre- 
hended by the majority, to sustain his equilibrium. 



9, The Conditions of Imaginative Activity. 

There are certain conditions upon which the activity of 
Imagination depends. They are 

(1) The presence of images. — This depends upon the 
energy of Phantasy. In dull, inert minds few images are 
presented ; in narrow, specialized minds only a certain 
common-place class of images are awakened. Childhood, 
as a period of general activity, is favorable to the activity 
of Imagination, but it is likely to be unrestrained and 
undirected. 

(2) A decided tendency of mind. — Unless there be some 
strong tendency, awakened by desire for some end, the 
images remain stagnant or enter into mere chance combi- 
nation in what is called " reverie," in which a succession 
of ideas drifts aimlessly through consciousness. The mu- 
sician, the poet, the inventor often possess this tendency 
to a definite kind of activity in a marked degree and such 
an inborn aptitude is called " genius." It is usually a 
wonderful capacity for one kind of activity and an equally 
remarkable unfitness for others. A less exalted special 
aptitude, yet sufficiently marked for notice, is what we 
mean by "talent." 

(3) A voluntary activity of mind. — Imagination usually 
involves a purposive action of the soul. No one writes a 
great poem or paints a great picture without purposing to 
do so. Imagination can be directed and its results are. 



laO PSYCHOLOGY. 

for that reason, regarded as more expressive of individu- 
ality or personality than any other power which we have 
so far considered. It is this that renders the artist, 
whether in literature or pictorial art, responsible for the 
character of his work and justifies our condemnation of 
the man, as well as the work, when the moral element of 
a production is censurable. 

10. Relation of Imagination to Education. 

Imagination, as recombining power, is essentially re- 
lated to the whole range of mental development. No 
study can be pursued without its aid. No productive act 
of mind can be carried on without it. Upon the training 
which it receives depends the quality of most intellectual 
efforts. We shall consider, then, (1) Imagination in Ac- 
quisition, (2) Imagination in Production, and (3) the 
Training of Imagination. 

(1) Imagination in Acquisition. — All study, whether of 
words or things, involves the use of Imagination. Bead- 
ing or listening, if we gather from words their meaning, 
we must exercise Imagination in combining into mental 
pictures the elements suggested by separate words, in 
order to have before our consciousness what the writer or 
speaker had before his. We instantly realize the differ- 
ence between a clear and a confused style by the degree 
of ease we have in translating sentences into mental equiv- 
alents. The facility with which different minds appre- 
hend meaning depends largely upon the liveliness of Im- 
agination. But even when we study things directly. 
Imagination is necessary to complete our immediate 
knowledge. As we have seen in the examination of Sense- 



REPR]2S:^I^TATlVi: KNOWLEDGE. 131 

perception, the senses give us but fragments of knowledge, 
to be combined and unified in the mind. We see but one 
half of the moon, yet we must think of that which appears 
to be a circular disc as if it were a sphere. The heart of 
things is always hidden, yet it is the inner constitution 
that holds the true meaning of everything. No one can 
study Chemistry, Physics, Astronomy, or Geology without 
Imagination. It is a relating activity of the mind and 
things are known truly only in their relations. Atoms 
and molecules are not visible, the correlation of forces 
cannot be seen, the solar system as a whole is not pre- 
sented to the senses, geological periods can be pictured 
only in succession. History is not a collection of names 
and dates, but a panorama of persons and events. With- 
out historical Imagination, history cannot be well written 
or comprehended. Hence it is that we learn history more 
truly from Sir Walter ScotVs romances than from the 
Saxon Chronicle, and every great historian must first re- 
create the past by Imagination in his own mind before he 
can give it truthful portraiture. 

(2) Imagination in Production. — Education aims to im- 
part to the learner some measure of productive power. 
In school this usually takes the form of composition- writ- 
ing. Here Imagination is essential. The grasp of a sub- 
ject, the formation of a plan, the search for materials, the 
arrangement of them for a purpose, the selection of figures 
of speech, the use of language as a medium of expres- 
sion, — all involve imaginative activity. The difference 
between Phantasy and Imagination is easily discernible 
here. The mind of a child or a youth is usually filled 
with images in great variety and profusion, but the diffi- 
culty is to combine these into new and coherent wholes. 



132 mrcHOLoar. 

Evidently, reproductive power falls far short of recombin- 
ing power. The relating activity is demanded, the ability 
to seize upon a central idea and array others about it in 
an orderly and original manner, so as to realize a purpose 
and give meaning to a production. Ehetorical practice is 
an effectual intellectual discipline. It affords, perhaps, 
the best single means of training Imagination which is 
possible to school exercises. 

(3) The Training of Imagination. — The characteristic 
of an active but undisciplined mind is exuberance, a 
superfluity of images and ideas, disorderly, conflicting, 
lacking in unity and design, like the rank vegetable 
growth of a tropical forest. The aim of the educator is 
to prune away redundancies and introduce unity and 
order. The best means of training are the contemplation 
and analysis of masterpieces on the one hand, and per- 
sonal constructive effort on the other. The former exer- 
cise a refining and directing influence upon the learner, 
illustrating what is to be avoided and what is to be at- 
tained in a work of Imagination. Constructive work may 
then be undertaken. The judicious teacher will be able 
to apply the principles of correct taste in detail and thus, 
by kindly criticism, gradually cultivate the right use of 
Imagination. The wider one's knowledge of facts and 
principles, the more vitally does the mind seize a central 
idea and employ it in construction ; hence, the more sober 
and informing studies are useful in giving insight and 
harmony to the operations of Imagination. Spontaneity 
in mental creation is the sign of genius, but it usually 
needs to be directed and enlightened, in order to attain 
real excellence. Even genius, therefore, is compelled to 
observe certain rules and principles. 



REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 133 

In this Section, on *^ Imagination," we have con- 
sidered :— 

1, Definition of Imagination, 

2, The Creative Energy of Imagination, 

3, The Character of Imaginative Activity* 

4, The Limitations of liuagination, 

5, Varieties of Imagination, 
I 6, Expectation, 

7, Uses of Imagination, 

8, The Dangers of Ifnagination, 

9, The Conditions of Imaginative Activity, 
10, Relation of Imagination to Education, 

Eeferences : (1) Wordsworth's Preface to his Works, I. (2) Ir- 
ving's Sketch Book. (3) Fleming's Vocabulary, p. 241. (4) Rus- 
kin's Modern Painters, II., p. 161. (5) Id., pp. 163, 164. (6) Id., 
p. 165. (7) Lotze's Outlines of Psychology, p. 40. (8) Ruskin's 
Modern Painters, II., p. 150. (9) See Jevons' Principles of Science, 
pp. 576, 577. 



CHAPTHH HL 

ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

DEFINITION AND DIVISION OF ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

Elaborative knowledge consists of presentative and repre- 
sentative Icnowledge worked out by purely psychical proc- 
esses into higher and more general forms. The name 
is derived from the Latin elabordre, to work out, and 
implies a special intellectual activity. It is identical 
with what is known as " thought," as distinguished from 
presentative and representative knowledge. It is some- 
times called also " discursive knowledge," because it is 
derived by a discursive process. It includes what was 
designated by Locke, " reflection," or the process of 
examining the simpler elements of knowledge and deriv- 
ing from them more general truth. It is based upon 
certain " laws of thought," which constitute the subject- 
matter of Logic, and will be discussed later on. It derives 
its validity from the certainty of the presentative and rep- 
resentative elements of knowledge employed and the faith- 
ful observance of the laws of thought. Elaborative knowl- 
edge is worked out by three processes, as follows : (1) 
Conception, which is the formation of abstract or general 
ideas ; (2) Judgment, which is the assertion of agreement or 
disagreement between ideas ; and (3) Reasoning, which is 
a process of inference, or arrangement of ideas and judg- 
ments according to the laws of thought. These processes 
will constitute the topics of the sections in this Chapter. 



ELABOEATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 135 

SBGTIOIT L 

CONCEPTION. 

1. Use of the Word " Conception," 
The word " Conception " has heen used in a variety of 
senses. It is applied to the power, the process, and the 
product of forming abstract or general ideas, but recent 
writers have chosen the word " Concept " to designate the 
product of Conception. In the older works on the sub- 
ject, the word is used with the widest latitude of meaning. 
We shall use it for the power and the process only, the 
poverty of language compelling us to this ambiguity. 

2. The Process of Conception. 

Conception (from the Latin con, with, and cap^re, to 
take, implying a taking or grasping together) is the 
process of forming abstract or general ideas. The nature 
of Conception can be best exhibited by an examination of 
the process by which such ideas are formed. This process 
consists of the following steps : 

(1) Presentation. — I walk out into a garden and my 
senses reveal a great number of objects. By Sense-per- 
ception I know them as individuals. I perceive a tree. 
I observe that it has branches and leaves. I see curved 
and straight lines, brown leaves and green leaves. I hear 
the wind blowing through the tree-tops. I pick up a 
branch and touch it. I put a leaf into my mouth and 
taste it. These are presentations of Sense-perception. 
Up to this point all the objects are known only as par tic- 



136 PSYCHOLOGY, 

ular individuals. Here the elaborative process is fur- 
nished with its materials. 

(2) Comparison. — When I have perceived these objects, 
I am led to observe that they have both resemblances and 
differences. I continue this act of comparison, comparing 
the objects with one another and noticing their likenesses 
and unlikenesses. I find that some leaves are green, 
others are brown, others are yellow, others are red. I 
find that some are nearly circular, some are oval, some 
are pointed. I look again and find that all are thin and 
possess little veins branching out from one another, or 
from a common stem. 

(3) Abstraction. — Having discovered that thinness and 
a veined structure are characteristic of many leaves, I con- 
sider these qualities apart from the other peculiarities of 
form and color and shape. In other words, I abstract 
(from the Latin ah, off, and trailer e, to draw), or draw 
off, for further attention, the common qualities of the 
objects examined. This is called abstraction. 

(4) Generalization. — I now find that these qualities, 
thinness and a veined structure, belong to the objects 
examined in common, and I see no leaf without them. 
They become to my mind the general qualities of that 
class of objects. When I have them in mind, I do not 
now think of anj particular leaf in the garden, but thin- 
ness and a veined structure come to be regarded by me as 
belonging to any leaf whatever. I thus generalize (from 
the Latin genus, kind or class), or extend to the whole 
class, the results of my observation, and this process is 
called generalization. 

(5) Denomination. — After having formed this general 
notion of a leaf, I may consider it for a time without 



ELABORATIYE KNOWLEDGE. 137 

affixing any name by which to distinguish it from other 
ideas, to recognize it in the future, or to communicate it 
to others. But if I leave the newly formed notion, ab- 
stracted from all definite material associations, unmarked 
by any sign, I shall not be able to reproduce it for my 
own use or to communicate it to another person. The 
reason of this is plain. A general notion, abstract idea, 
or concept, such as we have now formed, is not a form 
of sense - knowledge, and cannot be easily reproduced 
and recognized. A name is a form of sense-knowledge, 
and can be reproduced like any other image or concrete 
idea. In order to provide an instrument for farther 
thinking, and in order to convey my meaning to another 
person, I call my concept by the word '' leaf,'* which is 
an audible and visible sense-sign, or symbol, and this step 
is denomination, or naming. Such a word is called a 
" general term." 

It is evident that language has its origin with a being capable of 
abstraction. The creatures lower in the scale of being than man 
have no language, in the sense of articulate and rational speech, and 
they have no power of rational thinking. They are wanting in the 
necessary instrument of thought, language, and they are without it 
because they have not the intellectual power to create it.^ We do not 
name until we have abstracted. The objects of Sense-perception, as 
particular individuals, are too rich in qualities to afford a ground 
for naming. Suppose we wish to name a horse. We must fit the 
name to his qualities. We cannot find a name to designate them all. 
We find a name for him by abstracting a leading quality or action. 
The horse runs. Our Aryan ancestors seized upon this action of the 
horse and named him, '' that-which-runs,'' A dominant character- 
istic is thus singled out from the multiplicity of qualities and upon 
this the name is based. The roots of words in all languages are ab- 
stract words, that is, names of qualities, or actions, not of things. 
Philologists tell us that general ideas precede all speech. We have 



138 PSYCHOLOGY. 

seen the reason of it. If language proceeds thus from abstraction 
and generalization, we understand why it is designated by the word 
7>.ey£Lv, which signifies to choose, to gather ; for, in order to form the 
root which names the thing, there is necessary a prevailing choice 
eliminating all the secondary characters by an act of Will. Thus, 
we see, the development of language is simply the development of 
Reason, and the wise Greeks designated both speech and reason by 
the same word, \byoq. The utterances of the animals are purely sub- 
jective, expressive of feeling, not of ideas. Animals emit noises, — 
emotional sounds, such as grunts, snorts and growls, — ^but not words. 
Their knowledge is of particulars only, not of general qualities ab- 
stracted from their concrete combinations. They have no abstract 
ideas and, hence, do not reason as men do. The word becomes to 
man the instrument of thought and of its expression. It makes 
possible to him tradition and history, so that the past lives in the 
present and the thoughts of each generation become the heritage of 
the next. Thus science and philosophy, which are impossible to 
brutes, become the possessions of men. These topics and many 
others of psychological interest are fully and ably discussed by the 
eminent philologist F. Max Miiller (1833- ), in his " Science of 
Thought." 

3. The Completed Concept. 

Having traced the formation of a concept, we may now 
ask. What, precisely, is the nature of this product ? We 
may note the following negative and positive traits : 

(1) A Concept is not a Percept. — A percept is individ- 
ual and its union with other percepts is either a new indi- 
vidual whole or a collection of individuals, while a concept 
is general, 

(2) A Concept is not an Image. — The diiierence between 
a concept and an image is as marked as that between a 
concept and a percept. An image is an individual or a 
group of individuals. 

(3) A Concept combines similar qualities. — A concept 
unites in one form of knowledge the resemblances which 



ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE, 139 

have been observed in individual objects, and thus em- 
braces what is common to them all. The lower .animals 
observe resemblances and differences as well as man, and, 
by their superior keenness of sense, sometimes more read- 
ily ; but a brute is not known to have the power to com- 
bine like qualities into a unit of knowledge, a concept. 

(4) A Concept is purely relative. — It has no meaning 
except in relation to all the individual things for v/hich it 
stands. It is variously called a " general notion," an " ab- 
stract idea," or a " universal," because it applies equally 
well to any one of a class or kind of individuals. 

(5) A Concept is an incomplete form of Knowledge. — 
As a concept combines only certain common, or general, 
qualities, it excludes all those which are peculiar to indi- 
viduals and not common to a class. Thus, if I think of 
a '^eaf ■'^ as something "thin and of a veined structure," 
I have an incomplete knowledge of a "leaf" in that con- 
cept ; for every actual " leaf " has, in addition to these 
common qualities, some definite outline, size, and color, 
which must be added, to form a complete knowledge of it. 

Galton has suggested that abstract ideas, or concepts, may be 
regarded as " generic images " or "composite pictures." He has 
illustrated his meaning by means of " composite photographs," or 
photographs in which a great number — sometimes as many as forty 
or fifty — of individual faces are combined in one composite picture. 
He says : '' I doubt whether 'abstract idea ' is a correct phrase in 
many of the cases in which it is used, and whether ' cumulative idea ' 
would not be more appropriate. The ideal faces obtained by the 
method of composite portraiture appear. to have a great deal in com- 
mon with these so-called abstract ideas. The composite portraits 
consist of numerous superimposed pictures, forming a cumulative 
result in which the features that are common to all the likenesses 
are clearly seen ; those that are common to few are relatively faint 
and are more or less overlooked, while those that are peculiar to 



140 PSYGHOLOaY. 

single individuals leave no sensible trace at all." ^ This is an ingen- 
ious suggestion and, without doubt, there are mental composites, 
formed by Imagination, which correspond closely to the composite' 
portraits produced by photography ; but every such composite image 
has a definite size, form and color, while a concept, or abstract idea, 
has no definite size, form or color. Our concept " horse," for exam- 
ple, stands for all the individuals of the horse kind, from a diminu- 
tive Shetland pony to a ponderous Clydesdale draught-horse, and of 
any color between the extremes of white and black. A concept is 
something far more attenuated and immaterial than any composite 
picture which can be produced. We have, however, a mental ten- 
dency to substitute an image for a concept in our actual thinking. 
The image thus substituted is rather some well-known individual 
than a composite. Galton has himself illustrated this in another 
place. "Suppose," says he, "a person suddenly to accost another 
with the following words : ' I want to tell you about a loat.' What 
is the idea that the word ' boat ' would be likely to call up ? I tried 
the experiment with this result. One person, a young lady, said 
that she immediately saw the image of a rather large boat pushing 
off from the shore, and that it was full of ladies and gentlemen, the 
ladies being dressed in white and blue. It is obvious that a tendency 
to give so specific an interpretation to a general word is absolutely 
opposed to philosophic thought. Another person, who was accus- 
tomed to philosophize, said that the word ' boat ' had aroused no 
definite image, because he had purposely held his mind in suspense. 
He had exerted himself not to lapse into any one of the special ideas 
that he felt the word ' boat ' was ready to call up, such as a skiff, 
wherry, barge, launch, punt or dingy. Much more did he refuse to 
think of any one of these with any particular freight or from any 
particular point of view. A habit of suppressing mental imagery 
must, therefore, characterize men who deal much with abstract ideas ; 
and, as the power of dealing easily and firmly with these ideas is the 
sui-est criterion of a high order of intellect, we should expect the 
visualizing faculty would be starved by disuse among philosophers, 
and this is precisely what I found on inquiry to be the case." ^ This 
goes to show that abstract ideas are not images of any kind, but that 
persons with untrained minds use concrete images in place of them, 
thus missing that accuracy and precision of thought which they are 
fitted to serve. 



ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 141 



4. The Reality of Concepts. 

The abstract nature of concepts has led to a long 
and even bitter controversy on the following questions : 
(1) Have concepts, or universals, external existence, or do 
they exist in the mind only ? (2) If they have external 
existence, are they corporeal or incorporeal? (3) Are 
they separable from sensible objects, or do they subsist 
in these only ? Four principal views have been held on 
these questions, the last very recently presented, which 
are known as Realism, Nominalism, Conceptualism and 
Kelationism. We shall examine these views separately. 

5. Realism. 

There are two classes of Realists, differing quite materi- 
ally in theit views. 

(1) The Extreme Realists maintain the doctrine attrib- 
uted to Plato (430-347, B.C.), that universals have exist- 
ence separate from and independent of individual objects. 
For example, in addition to this, that, and the other par- 
ticular mountain, visible to the sense, there is, really ex- 
isting, mountain in the abstract. They hold that uni- 
versals existed before individuals. Their view is expressed 
in the Latin formula, Universalia ante rem, " Universals 
before the thing." The doctrine rests on Plato's opinion 
that ideas are eternal. 

(2) The Moderate Realists accept the opinion of Aris- 
totle (384-322, B.C.), that, while universals have a real 
existence, they exist not before, but only in, individual 
objects. Their view is expressed in the formula, TJni- 
versalia in re, ^'Universals in the thing.'' 



142 PSYGMOLOat. 

A brief historic outline of these doctrines may be of interest in 
throwing light upon the nature of concepts. Socrates (469-396, 
B.C.) insisted upon the importance of forming concepts of things, in 
order to rise from the particular to the universal, and advocated their 
objective validity. He did nothing, however, to explain the nature 
of concepts. Plato advocated more strenuously than Socrates the 
necessity of this higher knowledge, and taught that we must rise 
from the individual and transitory to the idea of the universal and 
eternal. This ultimate object of intelligence is the idea {tj Idea or 
TO elSoc). Plato does not teach where ideas, in this transcendental 
sense, exist, but he regards them as the only true realities and eternal 
in their nature. Things and events are only the passing shadows of 
ideas. The highest idea is that of God. Plato ascribes to ideas 
wonderful powers and personifies them, in order to make his philos- 
ophy acceptable to the common mind. He treats them sometimes in 
a poetic rather than a scientific manner, and finally gives to his teach- 
ing the qualities of intellectual romance. Aristotle regards individ- 
ual things as the only truly real beings, or primary entities {irpuraL 
ovalai) as he calls them. Concepts, or universals, he calls secondary 
entities {devTepai. ovalai), and distinguishes them from primary enti- 
ties as form is distinguished from matter. The form exists in the 
matter, but is not the matter. Form is universal, matter is particu- 
lar. Aristotle wished to avoid that hypostasizing of universals which 
he criticised in Plato, that is, the regarding universals as real, apart 
from the individuals to which they belong. His followers, however, 
were not attentive to this point, and came at last to consider uni- 
versals as realities in a sense not intended by their master. 



6. Nominalism. 

The Nominalists hold that individuals only have real 
existence, and that universals are merely groups of resem- 
blances held together by a name. Universals have no 
existence, except as names signifying certain qualities be- 
longing in common to many things. Hobbes says : '^ The 
universality of one name to many things hath been the 
cause that men think the things themselves are universal ; 



ELABORATiVE KNOWLEDGE. l43 

and so seriously contend that, besides Peter and John and 
all the rest of the men that are, have been, or shall be in 
the world, there is something else that we call man, viz. : 
man in general, deceiving themselves by taking the uni- 
versal or general appellation for the thing it signifieth." 
The view of the Nominalists is expressed by the formula, 
Universalia post rem, "Universals after the thing/' 
They are represented among modern philosophers by the 
Associational School of thinkers. 

Realism of some kind was practically universal among the thinkers 
of antiquity. The Sophists of Grreece, prior to the time of Socrates, 
had fallen into a practical Nominalism, attempting as they did to 
prove anything and treating words as standing for nothing fixed and 
absolute. With this exception, philosophers regarded general notions 
as representative of realities. In the third century of the Christian 
era, Porphyry (233-304) wrote a preface to Aristotle's work on the 
Categories, which was translated into Latin from the Greek by 
Boethius (470-536). ' This was the occasion of the controversy on 
the nature of universals. Dogmatic theology allied itself to Realism. 
The earlier disputes were between the extreme and the moderate 
Realists, Sootus Erigena (died, 886) reviving the extreme Realism 
of Plato in opposition to the moderate Realism of the Aristotelians 
which was generally accepted by theologians. Roscellinus of Com- 
piegne (f. 1093), though probably not the originator of Nominalism, 
taught that universals have no substantive or objective existence, but 
are mere names, and was compelled to recant this alleged heresy, 
which was regarded as involving a false doctrine of the Trinity. The 
doctrine of Nominalism, thus placed under ecclesiastical ban, was 
destined to become a prevailing position of philosophers. The view 
of Hobbes has been already given in the quotation cited above. It 
has become the inheritance of the Associational School of thought as 
represented by Hume, the two Mills, Bain and Spencer. J. S. Mill 
admits, however, a double significance of a concept, its denotation, 
or the things noted by the name, answering to the extension of a 
term, and its connotation, or the attributes noted by the name, 
answering to the comprehension of a term, as treated by logicians. 



144 PsrcsoLoaY. 

7. Conceptualism. 

The Conceptualists agree with the Nominalists in hold- 
ing that individuals only have real or objective existence, 
and that nniversals exist in the mind only, being formed by 
abstracting and generalizing common qualities. In addi- 
tion to the name, however, they believe in the existence of a 
mental state which they call a " concept. " The formula of 
the Nominalists, Universalia post rem, '' Universals after 
the thing, ^^ also expresses the doctrine of Conceptualists. 
Conceptualism is commonly accepted by modern philoso- 
phers. It vindicates itself against Realism by the impossi- 
bility of explaining just luhat and where the objective 
realities said to correspond to universals are ; and against 
Nominalism by the facts that in consciousness we regard the 
import of the name, that is, the concept, rather than the 
name itself ; and that knowledge of concepts precedes 
and determines the selection of names to designate them. 

The historic origin of Conceptualism is somewhat obscure. Some 
have attributed it to Abelard (1079-1142), but William of Occam 

(died, 1347) seems to have been the chief, if not the earliest, repre- 
sentative of Conceptualism. Conceptualism bears such close relation 
to Nominalism that Conceptualists are sometimes called " Moderate 
Nominalists." Locke, Reid and Brown were Conceptualists. The 
closeness of the alliance between Nominalism and Conceptualism is 
striking when we consider that Hamilton sometimes speaks like a 
Nominalist (in his " Lectures on Metaphysics"), and sometimes like 
a Conceptualist (in his "Lectures on Logic"). Kant is so remote 
from Realism that he regards the concept as entirely the product of 
the mind and yet he is not a Nominalist, because he regards the con- 
cept as mentally real apart from the name. For him the concept 
{Beg riff) is the product of the Understanding {Yer stand) and derives 
its form entirely from the inherent forms of the mind. This is the 
origin of Kant's Subjectivism, denying any knowledge whatever of 



ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 145 

Reality {Noumenon) and considering it as pertaining wholly to ap- 
pearances (Phenomena). Quantity, Quality, Cause, Space and Time 
are, for Kant, simply subjective forms of the mind itself, without 
objective existence. J. G. Fichte (1762-1814) pushed this view so far 
as to regard the entire universe as an evolution of the Ego by a pro- 
cess of thinkmg. G. W. F. Hegel (1770-1831) went still farther and 
denied all reality, both subjective and objective, except the process 
of thought itself. The inconsistency and emptiness of Phenomenal- 
ism, the logical result of Nominalism and Conceptualism in the En- 
glish and German philosophies emanating from Hume and Kant and 
their followers, have been ably pointed out by an American thinker, 
Francis E. Abbot (1836- ).^ 

8. Relationism. 

This is a new formulation of the truth that is divided 
between the three forms of doctrine already stated. It 
teaches that universals are (1) objective relations of resem- 
blance among objectively existing things ; (2) subjective 
concepts of these relations, determined in the mind by 
the relations themselves ; and, (3) names, representative 
both of the relations and the concepts, and applicable to 
them both. The formula of this theory is, Universalia 
inter res, "Universals among things." 

This theory has been formulated by Francis E. Abbot, in whose 
words the statement of doctrine above is given. Brown long ago 
said that he would prefer to be called a " Relationist," but the clear 
and satisfactory formulation of Relationism is due to Abbot. He 
holds that the doctrine rests upon the following self-evident prop- 
ositions : "(1) Relations are absolutely inseparable from their terms. 
(2) The relations of things are absolutely inseparable from the things 
themselves. (3) The relations of things must exist where the things 
themselves are, whether objectively in the cosmos or subjectively in 
the mind. (4) If things exist objectively, their relations must exist 
objectively; but if their relations are merely subjective, the things 
themselves must be merely subjective. (5) There is no logical alter- 
native between afiirming the objectivity of relations in and with 



146 PSYGHOLOaY. 

that of things and denying the objectivity of things in and with that 
of relations. For instance, a triangle consists of six elements, three 
sides and three angles. The sides are things ; the angles are rela- 
tions — relations of greater or less divergence between the sides. If 
the sides exist objectively, the angles must exist objectively also ; 
but if the angles are merely subjective, so must the sides be also. 
To affirm that the sides are objective realities, even as incognizable 
things-in-themselves, while yet the angles, as relations, have only a 
subjective existence, is the ne plus ultra of logical absurdity. Yet 
Kantianism, Nominalism, and all Nominalistic philosophy (if they 
admit so much as the bare possibility of the existence of things-in- 
themselves) are driven irresistibly to this conclusion."^ This writer 
clearly shows that, if we deny objective reality, we are finally shut 
up to Phenomenalism and this must assume the form of Individual 
Idealism, that is, our knowledge is of mental states alone, and all 
objective science becomes impossible. The scientific metliod, on 
the contrary, assumes the reality of things and of their relations, 
and scientific veriflcation presents a confirmation of this assump- 
tion in the positive results of established science. The breach be- 
tween Subjectivism in phijosophy and Objectivism in science is now 
so wide that Science and Philosophy seem to represent two hostile 
camps, or perhaps it would be more exact to say, two separate fields 
of labor where men are working by diametrically opposite methods. 
The unsophisticated soul finds no antagonism between its internal 
experiences and its objective knowledge ; but, on the contrary, be- 
lieves that they are in perfect harmony. This shows that Subjectiv- 
ism in philosophy is not the product of a true psychological method 
but of a theory of ideas that is false from the beginning. I\1ill and 
Kant have both done violence to the facts of consciousness in shut- 
ting the soul in from the objective world. We find relations where 
the things related are, whether within or outside of self. Self knows 
that it is circumscribed and yet knows verifiable relations beyond 
itself. The primary affirmations of the soul (see page 6) formulate 
our conscious knowledge upon this point. 

9. Perfect and Imperfect Concepts. 

If a concept is a system of relations apprehended by 
the mind;, it is evident that it may be perfect or imperfect. 



ELABORATIVJ^ KNOWLEDGE. 14'? 

according as the actual relations between things arc or are 
not fully and correctly apprehended. A concept may be 
too wide, that is, it may include more than the real things 
include ; or it may be too narroiu, that is, it may include 
less. Our concepts are formed with varying degrees of 
attention to real relations. We connect certain concepts 
with certain words without fully comprehending the sig- 
nification of the words. Words themselves are ambiguous, 
at times including less and at times more of meaning than 
at others. We are thus exposed to liabilities of error in 
our processes of judgment and reasoning based on con- 
cepts. It is the business of Logic, as the science of 
thought, to lay down rules to guide us in the practical use 
of concepts, and hence we need not enter farther upon 
this subject here. 

10. The Hypostasizing of Abstract Ideas. 

A quality abstracted from a thing and the relations 
existing between things, held in the mind as concepts, are 
not things, but qualities and relations. '^ Greenness," for 
example, is not a thing, but a quality. " Man," taken as 
a general term, is not a thing, but a concept, or system of 
relations of resemblance found among men. Hobbes was 
right in holding that it is nonsense to speak of ^^man" 
apart from all individual men. The doctrine of Eelation- 
ism holds that universals have reality only among the 
things related, that is, as relations. Evidently, then, we 
fall into a great error if we regard a concept, or system 
of relations, as if it were a substantial thing. Such a 
mental act is called the hypostasizing of an idea (from the 
Greek vtto, hypo, under, and InrriiiL, histemi, to stand), 
implying the mental placing of a substance under the ab- 



148 PSYGHOLOOY, 

stract idea. Many erroneous systems of thought originate 
from this radical error of treating an abstract quality or a 
system of relations as if it had independent and substan- 
tial existence. We have a tendency to treat every name as 
if it stood for a thing, whereas many names stand for qual- 
ities or relations which have no separate existence apart 
from the things of which they are qualities or relations. 

As an example of this error in philosophy, take Hegel's use of 

what he calls " the idea, " which, as an empty abstraction, is capable 
of being used in any way one fancies without apparent inconsistency 
so long as one is strictly logical in the treatment of it, that is, so long 
as self-contradictions are not introduced. Out of this " *cZea," which 
is so void of positive content that it can be identified with non-being, 
he manages by logical jugglery to evolve the universe ! This is the 
great vice of Metaphysics, — the treatment of abstract ideas as if 
they were realities. 

11. Kelation of Conception to Education. 

Conception has a threefold relation to education : (1) it 
is essential to scientific knowledge ; (2) it is developed by 
linguistic study; and (3) it affords a criterion for the 
order of study. 

(1) Scientific Knowledge. — Science is not an accumula- 
tion of isolated facts, but of facts grouped in classes, ex- 
plained by laws, and expressed by a suitable nomenclature. 
Abstraction and generalization are necessary for the forma- 
tion of classes, the discovery of laws, and the application of 
names. The mere inspection of plants, for example, does 
not give us Botany. It is by comparison of numerous 
plants that we reach the principles of classification. Ab- 
straction is then employed in classing separate plants under 
these principles. By generalization we reach universal 



ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 149 

terms which designate all the plants of a kind, or class. 
This is the method of every science. We begin with par- 
ticular individuals and proceed to general terms and uni- 
versal principles. Only by the aid of Conception, then, 
can we attain to scientific knowledge of any subject. 

(2) Linguistic Study. — Language is made up largely of 
general terms. All common nouns are such class-names. 
^' Plant, ^' ^'^animal,^^ ^'^ triangle, ^^ etc., are examples. All 
such adjectives as ^'^red,^^ ^'^round,^^ ^'^vital,'^ etc., are 
names of qualities which, when abstracted by the mind 
from their concrete combinations, are designated by abstract 
nouns, such as '^'^ redness, ^■' ^^ roundness,^' '^'^ vitality,^-' etc. 
All study of language is practice in conceiving such classes, 
such qualities and such abstractions. This study is, then, 
especially adapted to cultivate the conceptual powers. It 
calls forth the comparative habit. The effort to grasp 
the meaning of a new word involves the exercise of all the 
powers of Conception. Only ^^word-dividing man,^^ in 
Homer ^s phrase, is capable of thinking. The ready-made 
concepts of those who have formed a language are con- 
veyed to the mind through the attentive study of it. 
Hence it is that the learning of a highly complex and 
elaborate language, like the Latin or the Greek, has been 
held to be conducive to a development of the conceptual 
powers and the best preparation for scientific pursuits. 

(3) The Order of Studies. — In the relations already 
pointed out, we find a criterion for the order of studies. 
There are in the growth of the mind three essential 
processes : (a) apprehensio7i of facts, {p) analysis of 
facts, and (c) synthesis of relations. In Botany, for ex- 
ample, plants must be seen, their parts separated and 
their common characteristics united under general terms. 



150 PSYCHOLOGY. 

Such concepts as '^ nutrition/^ •''^growth/' "reproduc- 
tion/^ etc., are reached by this method. But the second 
and third processes are dependent upon language. We 
have already seen that language is an instrument of 
analysis (p. 82). The whole of the present section has 
shown how it is an instrument of synthesis. The method 
is always the same. Hence we infer that the earliest 
studies should be presentative and linguistic at the same 
time. After a sufficient number of facts has been accu- 
mulated and language has trained the mind in the use of 
conceptual power and furnished the instrument for it, the 
more abstract studies should follow, such as Physical 
Science (as organized knowledge), the Lower Mathe- 
matics, Grammar, Ehetoric, Logic, the Higher Mathe- 
matics, Psychology, etc. Physical Geography is much 
more abstract than Descriptive Geography, Algebra than 
Arithmetic, and Grammar than Literature. Written 
Arithmetic and Algebra are much less abstract than. 
Grammar, as most students find, for in these mathe- 
matical studies there is always a concrete symbol before 
the eye, which is treated according to a fixed rule, while 
in Grammar the classification embraced in the "parts of 
speech " is really based on the structure of thought itself. 

This subject is of such practical interest to the teacher that it 
seems desirable to treat it more fully. Alexander Bain, in his 
'' Education as a Science," has offered some very valuable sug- 
gestions on the method of developing abstract Ideas in the mind 
of a learner. For the benefit of those to whom the book may be 
inaccessible, the following epitome is attempted. (1) Tlie selection 
of particulars should he such as to shoiv all extreme varieties. Iden- 
tical instances are not to be accumulated. They merely burden the 
mind, while varying instances show the quality under every combi- 
nation, To bring home the abstract property of " roundi),ess," or 



ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE, 151 

the circle, we must present concrete examples in varying size, color, 
material, situation and circumstances. We cannot exhibit a circle 
in the abstract, and we cannot present a real one without size ; but 
we can reduce the material to a thin black line on a white ground. 
Two or three such, of different sizes, with one made of white on black 
ground and one in some other color would eliminate everything but 
the single property of form. This comes as near to abstracting the 
property as the case allows. (2) The instances cited should bring 
out the agreements. If the objects are material, they should be simi- 
larly and symmetrically situated to the eye. The comparison of 
numbers, as three, four, five, should be in rows side by side, to begin 
with. (3) The accumulation should he continuous, until the effect is 
produced. We should put everything else aside for the time. An 
overwhelming concentration at one point is needed. Any instance 
that is perplexing in itself will prove distracting. Examples that 
are very interesting from other points of view produce the same dis- 
tracting effect. Contrast is useful. To create in the mind the 
abstract idea of a circle, we may place it beside an oval. (4) A sud- 
den flash of agreemetit between things in many respects different, is 
what is aimed at. When among things that have formerly been 
regarded as different, there is a sudden flash of agreement, the mind 
is arrested and pleased ; and the discovery makes one great element 
of intellectual interest, imparting a positive charm. (5) Aid can be 
derived from the tracing of cause and effect. The notion of cause 
and effect, the crowning notion of science, is one of the first to dawn 
upon the infant mind. The simplest movements are attended with 
discernible consequences : the fall of a chair with noise ; the taking 
of food with gratification. These instances are the beginnings of 
the knowledge of causes ; and they are viewed correctly from the 
first. Now when any agent produces an apparent change or effect, 
it operates by only one of the many properties that it possesses as a 
concrete object. A chair has form to the eye, resistance to the hand, 
noise to the ear ; and as these effects are seen in their separate work- 
ings, they lead on to analysis or abstraction of the properties causing 
them. (6) The number of instances necessary varies with the char- 
acter of the things. Very few are needed for a simple form — for 
weight, liquidity, transparency. For a metal, a plant, a tree, a 
bird, an article of food, a force, a society — a good many are wanted. 
(7) TM namQ o^nd the defmition should be given along with the general 



152 PSYCHOLOGY. 

notion, when it is formed. The definition assigns some simpleF no- 
tions, supposed to be already possessed. The fact that inability to 
form abstract ideas is the principal stumbling-block in the way of 
all learners, warrants particular pains and indefatigable industry on 
the part of the teacher in giving intelligent aid at this point.* 

In this section, on Conception, we have considered : 

1, Use of the word *^ Conception,'^ 

2, Tlie Process of Conception, 

3, The Completed Concept, 
4:, The Meality of Concepts, 

5, Mealism, 

6, Nominalism, 

7, Conceptualism, 

8, JRelationism, 

9, JPerfect and Imperfect Concepts, 

10. The Sypostasizing of Abstract Ideas. 

11, Melation of Conception to Education, 

References : (1) F. Max Miiller's Science of Thought, Chapter 
IV. (2) Gralton's Inquiry into Human Faculty, pp. 183, 184. (3) 
Id., pp. 109, 110. (4) Abbot's Scientific Theism, p. 1 et seq., and 
Mind, Oct., 1883, p. 461 et seq. (5) Id. (6) Bain's Education as a 
Science, pp. 193, 197. 



SEGTION n. 

JUDGMENT. 



1. Definition of Judgment. 

Judgment is the process of asserting agreement or dif- 
ference between ideas. It is essentially the relating activ- 
ity of Intellect. It implies the pre-existence of elements 
of knowledge between which relations of agreement or 
disagreement can be discovered, For example, to judge 



ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE, 153 

that two colors are, or are not, the same, it is necessary 
that each should be separately apprehended. The expres- 
sion of an act of judgment in language is a proposition. 

Nothing but a proposition, expressed or imphed, can embody 
truth. Things, states and quahties can be apprehended as real, but 
we cannot say a "house" is true, or a "sensation" is true, or a 
" color " is true. Truth is the correspondence of consciousness with 
reality. When we assert an agreement or a disagreement to exist 
and it actually does exist, our judgment is true and what we assert 
is true. Truth can never be attained and error can never be elimi- 
nated, except by acts of Judgment. We do, however, apprehend 
reality by direct intuition, or immediate knowledge. At least two 
realities must be apprehended before a judgment can be formed. 
That our apprehensions of reality, apart from all acts of Judgment, 
are very rudimentary, is evident from the place which interpretation 
has in the sphere of Sense-perception. 

2. Relation of Judgment to Other Processes. 

Judgment is involved in nearly all the forms of knowl- 
edge which we have thus far examined. Although we 
must separate the various psychical acts for purposes of 
analytical study, it should not be forgotten that they are 
intimately blended in the actual processes of knowledge. 
Thus, Judgment is employed in Sense-perception, and all 
our acquired perceptions are products of Judgment exer- 
cised upon our original perceptions. Every act of recog- 
nition is an act of Judgment, in which the represented 
idea is asserted to be the representative of something we 
have previously known. In acts of Imagination, the fit- 
ness of means to ends is constantly asserted. In Concep- 
Uon, the acts of comparing, generalizing, and denominat- 
ing are exercises of Judgment. As we shall soon see, every 
process of Reasoning is a series of dependent Judgments. 



154 PSYCHOLOGY, 



3. The Elements of a Judgment. 

Every Judgment has three essential elements. They are : 

(1) the Subject, or that of which something is asserted ; 

(2) the Predicate, or that which is asserted of the Sub- 
ject ; and (3) the Copula, or that which asserts agreement 
or disagreement of the Subject and Predicate. 

Sometimes the three elements are expressed in three 
separate words ; as, Man (subject) is (copula) mortal (pred- 
icate). Frequently the subject is expressed in one word 
and the copula and predicate are united in one ; as, Ma7i 
(subject) dies (copula and predicate united). The copula 
simply expresses agreement or disagreement, according as 
it is affirmative or negative, but does not necessarily in- 
volve actual existence. The verb "to be/^ in its various 
forms, sometimes expresses the mere relation between the 
subject and predicate, and sometimes involves also the 
predicate of existence, or actual being, 

4. Classification of Judgments. 

Judgments are of various kinds and may be classified 
differently, according to the manner in which they are 
employed or regarded. The most important distinctions 
are expressed in the following classes : 

(1) As to origin, judgments are {a) analytical, when the 
predicate simply unfolds what is already contained in the 
subject, without adding an3rthing new ; as, ^' All triangles 
have three sides "', and (J) synthetic, when we assert of 
the subject something not already implied in it and thus 
increase our knowledge; as, "All the planets attract other 
material bodies according to their mass.^^ 



ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 155 

Analytical judgments are sometimes called "explicative," and 
synthetical judgments, " ampliative." An analytical judgment Is 
not necessarily tautologous, that is, the predicate does not simply 
repeat the subject. It unfolds the content of the subject and sets it 
in a new light. It explains what the subject really means. 

(2) As to certainty, judgments are {a) problematical, 
when founded on mere opmion, the assertion being neither 
subjectively nor objectively known to be true ; (h) assert- 
ive, when founded on personal lelief, as when a subjective 
conviction is offered without verification ; and {c) demon- 
strative, when founded on constitutive principles or verified 
proof, as the axioms and demonstrations of mathematics. 

Opinion is a view of a subject that may be entertained without 
evidence, being based merely on pre-coneeptions. It presents a prob- 
lem to be investigated, but is not itself conclusive, even for the one 
who entertains it. Belief is based on some evidence, but it may vary 
greatly in amount, according to the intellectual habits of each person. 
The evidence that induces belief in one may not induce it in another. 
There are degrees of belief. In the sphere of probability, belief 
must take the place of knowledge. In all the practical affairs of life 
it is sufficient for action, and the wise man does not wait to know, but 
acts on his beliefs. In the sacred relations of husband and wife, 
parent and child, lender and borrower, buyer and seller, teacher and 
pupil, belief must satisfy. These relations are sacred for the reason 
that demonstration is impossible. Here enters the principle of 
"honor," which consists in a recognition of the sacredness of these 
personal relations. Demonstration rests upon the certainty of knowl- 
edge and the processes of knowledge, and admits the element of verifi- 
cation. It is excluded from all those spheres where trust in the 
veracity of a person is involved, and these are the ones in which our 
affections, our business prosperity, and our religious hopes are in- 
cluded. 

(3) As to form, judgments are {a) categorical, when the 

3,ssertion is unqualified by any condition \ as, ^^ Man i§ 



156 PSYCHOLOGY. 

jRoxisiX"', and {h) conditional; when the assertion is quali- 
fied by a condition; as, ^' If this is a man, he is mortal/^ 
Conditional judgments are further divided into hypothet- 
ical, disjunctive, and dilemmatic, which are explained in 
Logic. 

(4) As to quantity, judgments are (a) universal, when 
the predicate is affirmed universally of the subject ; as, 
''All clouds are vaporous''; and {h) particular, when the 
predicate is asserted of only a part of the subject ; as, 
" /S(9we men are vicious/' 

(5) As to quality, judgments are {a) affirmative, when 
they affirm a relation to exist between subject and predi- 
cate ; as, "Men are rational beings"; and {h) negative, 
when a relation is denied between subject and predicate ; 
as, "Men are not omniscient." 

(6) As to inclusion, judgments are (a) extensive, when 
an attribute taken as a subject is asserted to exist in ob- 
jects taken as predicates ; as, " The Whites are English, 
French, Germans, etc." ; and (J) comprehensive, when 
anything taken as a subject is asserted to possess an attri- 
bute taken as a predicate ; as, "All Europeans are white." 

5. The Categories of Judgment. 

It is evident that the possible modes of assertion are 
limited by the nature of the things about which we make 
assertions. Let us take an example. I see a tree in a 
garden. I may assert of it : 

(1) Being, or existence. It has (a) Quantity, that is, 
it is more or less than other trees. It has {h) Quality, 
that is, it is of some hind, as a maple. It has (c) Mode, 
that is, it is solid, not liquid or gaseous. It has {d) 



ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 157 

Number, that is, it is one of many trees. It has (e) Rela- 
Hon, that is, its parts are specialljy disposed. I may assert 
of it also : 

(2) Cause, or active power. It has {a) Efficiency, that 
is, productive power. It has {h) Finality, that is, adapta- 
tion to an end, or purpose. I may farther assert of it : 

(3) Space, or co-extension. It has {a) Position, (b) 
Direction, (c) Distance, (d) Surface and (e) Magnitude. 
Finally, I may assert of it : 

(4) Time, or continuance. It has {a) Succession in the 
production of its parts and {b) Duration as a whole. 

These predicates have been called the Categories (from 
the Greek KarTjyopeG), Icategoreo, to predicate or assert), or 
general kinds of assertion that may be made with respect 
to anything. The power to know these highest predicates, 
which are structural elements in the nature of things and 
in the composition of thought, is called Reason. Eational 
Judgment is the process of asserting agreements and dis- 
agreements under these categories, or forms of knowing. 

The doctrine of the categories is very ancient. Those of the 
Greek philosopher, Pythagoras (586-506, b.c), are the earliest known. 
Aristotle subsequently stated them as follows : (1) substance, (2) 
quantity, (3) quality, (4) relation, (5) place, (6) time, (7) situation, (8) 
possession, (9) action, and (10) suffering.^ This statement of the 
categories was afterwards modified by various philosophers. The 
Stoics reduced them to four : (1) substance, (2) quality, (3) manner 
and (4) relation. Plotinus attempted a new system, but Aristotle's 
statement was generally received until the time of Bacon. In 
modern times Kant's doctrine of the categories is important. He 
names the following : I. Of Quantity : (1) Unity, (2) Plurality, 
(3) Totality. II. Of Quality : (1) Reality, (2) Negation, (3) Limita- 
tion. III. Of Relation : (1) Substance and Accident, (2) Cause and 
Effect, (3) Reciprocity. IV. Of Modality : (1) Possibility, (2) Ex- 
istence, (3) Necessity. These are the categories of the Understand- 



15^ PSYGEOLOGY, 

ing. Of Seiigiious Intuition there are two others : Tim6 and Space. ^ 
According to Kant, all these Are mere forms of the intelligence, not 
structural elements in actual Being. They are for the mind only, 
prescribing the necessities of thought, but not inherent in reality. 
While no rational process is possible without categories, it would 
probably be presumptuous to suppose that any classification of them 
is faultless. It is difficult to state them in such a manner as to avoid 
a repetition of some element under the different names. A reason for 
this may be that concrete realities involve many of them at the same 
time, and our analysis cannot exhaust them without repeating them. 
An explanation of each of the categories as given in the text above 
is attempted in the treatment of Constitutive Knowledge. The ref- 
erence to them here is necessary in order to show the bases upon 
which Rational Judgment rests. 

6. The Relation of Judgment to Education. 

Education aims to develop the power of judging. It 
does not attempt to supply a complete stock of verified 
propositions. The educated man is one whose power of 
independent Judgment has been so cultivated that he can 
form verified propositions for himself in any field of in- 
vestigation. The uneducated man can follow an old rule, 
but the educated man can discover new rules. Two im- 
portant educational problems arise here : (1) how far to 
encourage independence of Judgment in a learner, and 
(2) how to cultivate the power of correct Judgment. 

(1) Independence of Judgment in the learner. — Abject 
deference to authority and absolute independence of 
authority are two extremes which are, perhaps, equally 
remote from the proper spirit of a learner. Too much 
dependence upon a teacher's ipse dixit divests the pupil 
of all real intellectual activity and renders him the passive 
recipient of pre-arranged ideas. Such a learner can never 
be much more than a parrot. On the other hand, too 



ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE, 159 

much self-confidence in a pupil renders the correcting 
influence of a superior mind ineffectual. Such a learner 
receives no training. In order that development of Judg- 
ment may be acquired, the power must be both exercised 
and trained. The learner must, therefore, be allowed, 
and if backward must be urged, to form judgments with- 
out aid from others. He must also be required to submit 
his own judgments to the revision and correction of his 
teacher. The relation of teacher and pupil has no reason 
for existing, if it does not imply the teacher^s superiority 
in the special department in which instruction is under- 
taken, and the pupiFs position as a learner requires his 
respectful recognition of this superiority. The teacher^s 
function, however, is not simply to implant a system of 
truth, but to develop an intelligence. This requires that 
independence of judgment should be encouraged where it 
is necessary as well as repressed where it is too prominent. 
To develop power without conceit, is the teacher's diffi- 
cult task. 

(2) The Cultivation of Judgment. — The power to judge 
correctly is cultivated by well-directed practice, which 
gradually supplies the mind with rules of experience, 
some growing out of the particular subject-matter with 
which we deal, others of a more general character. We 
thus learn what are the sources of error and what are the 
tests of truth. The exact sciences are more favorable for 
the cultivation of Judgment than the speculative sciences ; 
for in the former verification is possible, so that the learner 
can test his own judgments, while in the latter he cannot. 
The sphere of practical action is especially favorable for 
the development of Judgment, for errors are here rebuked 
by consequences which render the mind cautious and ac- 



160 PSTCSOLOaT. 

curate in its operations. Theory often fails in practice, 
but intelligent practice seldom fails to suggest a true 
theory. The laboratory of experimental science is an 
excellent primary school of Judgment. So also is the 
workshop. 

A writer on the value of industrial education, says, in pointing 
out the influence of action on thought : "The mind and the hand 
are natural allies. The mind speculates, the hand tests the specula- 
tions of the mind by the law of practical application. The hand 
explodes the errors of the mind ; for it inquires, so to speak, by the 
act of doing, whether or not a given theorem is demonstrable in the 
form of a problem. The hand is, therefore, not only constantly 
searching after truth, but is constantly finding it. It is possible for 
the mind to indulge in false logic, to make the worse appear the 
better reason, without instant exposure. But for the hand to work 
falsely is to produce a misshapen thing — tool or machine — which in 
its construction gives the lie to its maker. Thus the hand that is 
false to truth, in the very act publishes the verdict of its own guilt, 
exposes itself to contempt and derision, convicts itself of unskilful- 
ness or of dishonesty." ^ 

In this section, on '^Judgment," we have considered : 

1, Definition of Judgment, 

2, Helation of Judgment to Other Processes. 
S, The Elemeiits of Judgment, 

4, Classification of Judgments, 

5, The Categories of Judgment, \ 

6, The Melation of Judgment to Education, ' 

References : (1) Aristotle's Categories, IV., 1. (2) Kant's Cri- 
tique of Pure Reason (Mliller's Translation), II., p. 71. (3) Ham's 
Manual Training, pp. 144, 145. 



ELABORATIVM ICNOWLEDGR 161 

SEGTIOIT III. 

REASONING. 

1. Definition of Reasoning. 

Reasoning is a process of inference in which a new 
judgment is derived from other known judgments. It im- 
plies the existence of a regulative faculty, or Reason, 
whose structural principles are employed in connecting 
ideas and judgments. It is a discursive, as distinguished 
from an intuitive, action of Intellect, and presupposes not 
only materials of presentative knowledge with which it 
deals, but also regulative principles which give validity to 
the process. 

A question naturally arises as to the validity of the reasoning 

process. A conclusion, or result of reasoning, seems to have the 
character of a manufactured article, and we may well doubt the 
ability of the mind to make truth. The difficulty is readily removed, 
however, if we consider that reasoning is simply the more explicit 
statement of what is already involved in presentative and represent- 
ative knowledge. If A is equal to B, and B is equal to C, then it 
is certain that A is equal to C, although this is a new judgment, for 
its truth is necessitated by the truth of the previous judgments. 
But this necessity is owing to a law of thought which is also a law 
of things, namely, the Law of Identity. If there are no certain and 
necessary laws of thought, or if the laws of thought are not also 
laws of things, we have no warrant for the process of reasoning 
in any of its forms, and no conclusion can be demonstrative. The 
nature of these foundations we shall discuss under Constitutive 
Knowledge, and it is sufficient here to exhibit the dependence of all 
reasoning upon constitutive principles and to illustrate the manner 
in which it employs them in giving validity to inferences. We shall 
thus be prepared for an examination of the rational constitution of 
the mind. 



16^ psYcmLoar, 

2. The Assumptions of all Reasoning. 

Eeasoning would be impossible if there were not a cor- 
respondence between the processes of the soul and the 
external operations which move and combine the real 
objects of knowledge. If we can arrive at the real rela- 
tions of things outside of ourselves by combining our ideas 
according to the laws of thought, it is certain that those 
things are governed and arranged according to the same 
laws of thought. In brief, if subjective thought can 
reach objective truth, it is because objective realities are 
regulated by the same laws of thought. The thought of 
man, when correct, is but the transcript of thought that 
is not his own, but which was before his, regulates his, 
and is above his. 

Philosophical Skepticism has its origin in doubt concerning the 
trustworthiness of the reasoning process. One of its earliest historic 
representatives was Pyrrho of Elis (about 360-370 B.C.), a Greek 
philosopher, or rather doubter of the possibility of philosophy, from 
whose name philosophical skeptics are sometimes called Pyrrhonists. 
He asserted that, of every two contradictory propositions, one is 
not more true than the other. A later representative of this school 
of thinkers was Sextus Empiricus (about 200 a.d.), who claimed to 
be able to disprove the possibility of demonstration ! The paradox of 
a demonstration that there can be no demonstration, is evidently 
rational suicide. Subsequent ages have had representative skeptics. 
Hume and his followers belong to this school, in so far as they are 
consistent, if consistency is conceivable in one who rejects the postu- 
lates of Reason. 

3. Inductive Reasoning-. 

Induction is the inference of a conclusion by generali- 
zation from particular facts. The conclusion is a univer- 
sal judgment. The great problem m the discussion of 



ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 163 

inductive reasoning is to show how we can pass from the 
particular to the universal. It is evident that we must 
assume some universal principles, or else we cannot sustain 
the validity of inductive reasoning. These assumptions 
we shall presently state. 

*'Two bodies of unequal weight (say a guinea and a feather) are 
placed at the same height under the exhausted receiver of an air- 
pump. When released, they are observed to reach the bottom of the 
vessel at the same instant of time, or, in other words, to fall in equal 
times. From this fact, it is inferred that a repetition of the experi- 
ment, either with these bodies or with any other bodies, would be at- 
tended with the same result, and that, if it were not for the resistance 
of the atmosphere and other impeding circumstances, all bodies, 
whatever their weight, would fall through equal vertical spaces in 
equal times. Now, that these two bodies in this particular experi- 
ment fall to the bottom of the receiver in equal times is merely a fact 
of observation, but that they would do so if we repeated the experi- 
ment, or that the next two bodies we selected, or any bodies, or all 
bodies, would do so, is an inference, and is an inference of that par- 
ticular character which .is called an Inductive Inference, or In- 
duction." * 

4. Processes Subsidiary to Induction. 

There are several processes connected with induction 
and subsidiary to it. These are as follows : 

(1) Observation. — By observation we carefully note 
phenomena. I observe that two bodies fall to the ground 
with different velocities. I observe that a coin is heavier 
than a feather. These are simple facts of observation and, 
uninterpreted, they have little significance. 

(2) Experiment. — Experiment involves an intentional 
combination of phenomena, in order to observe them under 
new conditions. I exhaust the air from a receiver and 
then drop a coin and a feather in it, in order to see what 



164 PSYCHOLOGY. 

effect the changed conditions will have. This affords 
new facts. Science really begins when experiment, or 
analytical observation, takes the place of simple obser- 
vation. 

(3) Hypothesis. — Hypothesis is a theory, or supposition, 
provisionally employed as an explanation of phenomena. 
It is necessary as a directing idea in the conduct of exper- 
iments. The invention of hypotheses is one of the most 
important functions of Scientific Imagination. The prin- 
cipal test of the truth of an hypothesis is its adaptation to 
explain all the facts. When it does not explain the facts, 
it must be modified or abandoned. 

(4) Verification. — This consists in proving the truth of 
an hypothesis by applying it to all the attainable facts and 
so discovering that what was an hypothesis in thought is 
actually a law of things. Every process of verification 
assumes certain principles which we shall now state. 

5. Assumptions of Inductive Inference. 

In order to render induction valid, two assumptions 
must be made : 

(1) That every event has a cause. This is the Law of 
Universal Causation ; and 

(2) That the same causes will always produce the same 
effects. This is the Law of the Uniformity of Nature. 

If I infer that all bodies acted on by gravity alone fall in equal 
times, it is because every event of this kind, — the falling of a body, — 
requires a cause, gravity, and because this cause always acts uni- 
formly. If such an event could happen without a cause, or if the 
same cause did not always produce the same effect, I could make no 
inference whatever. No induction, then, is possible, except upon 
these assumptions. 



ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE, 165 

6. Deductive Reasoning. 

Deduction is the inference of a conclusion by the appli- 
cation of a general truth to a particular case. The prin- 
ciple underlying all deductive reasoning was laid down by 
Aristotle and is known as Aristotle's Dictum : "Whatever 
is predicated;, or asserted universally, of any class of things, 
may be predicated of anything comprehended in that 
class/^ The validity of this mode of reasoning, then, 
depends upon our knowledge of general, or universal 
judgments. From the premises 

All wood is a vegetalle product ; 
This substance is wood ; 

I may infer the conclusion. 

This substance is a vegetable product. 

If, however, I cannot assert that ''All wood is a vege- 
table product, ^^ but only that " Some wood is a vegetable 
product,'^ I can infer nothing. 

7. Origin of Universal Judgments. 

The question. How are general, or universal, judgments 
obtained ? has given rise to much discussion. The fol- 
lowing theories have been held : 

(1) The Inductive Theory. — This derives all general 
judgments from induction. Even such propositions as, 
''''Every event has a cause,'' are, according to this theory, 
derived from induction. This is the position of J. S. 
Mill.^ To this view it may be objected (1) that no num- 
ber of particular instances, without a universal element, 
would warrant a general law, and (2) that every process of 
induction assumes general principles to begin with. 



166 PSYCHOLOGY. 

(2) The Hereditary Theory. — This view regards general 
judgments as derived from the experience of past genera- 
tions, being transmitted as inherited tendencies to regard 
certain propositions as universal, because they have never 
been contradicted in experience. The theory differs from 
the exploded doctrine of innate ideas, in regarding the ten- 
dency, not as an actual form of knowledge, but as an in- 
herited disposition. This is the position of Herbert Spen- 
cer. ^ The objections to it are (1) that it simply removes 
the difficulties a little farther back, for the first induction 
could not have proceeded without general judgments, and 
(2) even the total experience of the human race does not 
show that a judgment is really universal and necessary. 
It fails, then, to give a firm foundation to reasoning. 

(3) The Intuitive Theory. — According to this view, cer- 
tain fundamental principles are regarded as known by in- 
tuition (from the Latin in, in or on, and tueri, to look). 
Such principles are variously called " intuitions, ^^ '^ pri- 
mary beliefs," ^' first truths" and '^constitutive princi- 
ples." Unless the mind begins with such intuitions, it is 
difficult to comprehend how any process of reasoning is 
possible. They are more fully considered in the treat- 
ment of Constitutive Knowledge, to which they belong. * 

The origin of mathematical axioms has occasioned much con- 
troversy, and affords a field for illustrating the rise of certain gen- 
eral truths. These propositions are not derived by induction from 
particular cases, but are seen at once to be true in any case. They 
do not, indeed, come into consciousness until we set about formulat- 
ing mathematical proofs, but they are implied in all our mathe- 
matical thinking, and have a character of self -evidence and necessity 
which is known as soon as we think about them. The same is true 
of many other principles. Our best description of the way in which 
such principles are known is to say that they are known intuitively, 



ELABOBATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 167 

or by direct insiglit. We cannot speak of them as ''innate," for 
that would imply that they exist in the mind at birth as forms of 
knowledge, whereas they come into consciousness only in the course 
of experience. They cannot be proved, either inductively or deduct- 
ively, because there is nothing more evident from which they could 
be proved, and they must be assumed in every possible form of proof. 
It must be remembered, however, that in nearly all processes of de- 
ductive reasoning, we employ universal judgments which we have 
derived from induction, and which have only that degree of probable 
truth that the extent of our induction warrants. 



8. Two Forms of Expressing Deduction. 

There are two ways in which a deductive argument may 
be expressed. They are : 

(1) The Explicit, or Syllogistic. — This is the full and 
logical form of statement, and is best adapted for the ready 
application of the tests which are employed by logicians 
to determine the validity or invalidity of an inference. 

(2) The Implicit, or Enthymematic. — This is an abbre- 
viated form of expression, in which one of the judgments, 
or premises, is suppressed, {a) because it is too evident to 
require expression, or (h) to avoid attracting attention to 
it and thus exposing a fallacy. It is the form in which 
arguments are usually stated in connected discourse. 

As the persons who use this text-book are presumed to have studied 
Logic, it is unnecessary to enter into details concerning the forms of 
reasoning. The psychological interest terminates when the processes 
of reasoning have been described and the validity of correct reason- 
ing is shown. If the reasoning be correct, and the premises are true, 
the conclusion is true. In the sphere of merely probable judgments, 
the conclusion has the same degree of probability as the two premises 
taken together. The trustworthiness of all reasoning depends upon 
the relations of real beings implied in the premises. Most fallacies 
result from false premises. 



168 PSYCHOLOGY, 

9. Systematization. 

The highest product of reasoning is a System, or coher- 
ent whole, in which truth is unified. A perfect system 
would fulfill the following requirements : 

(1) All the facts must be included ; 

(2) All the facts must be harmonized, so that no con- 
tradiction exists between them ; 

I (3) All the facts must be arranged according to their 
natural aflSinities. 

Every science aims to meet all these requirements so far 
as its limited complement of facts is concerned. It in- 
cludes, harmonizes, and arranges the facts, however, with 
growing clearness and certainty, and this is what is meant 
by the '^ growth of science.-'^ That all truth is harmonious, 
is believed by every intelligence that has faith in the in- 
telligibility of the universe. We have not yet arrived at a 
final system in which all knowledge is unified. If such a 
system existed in the consciousness of any man, it is doubt- 
ful if any existing language would furnish an adequate 
expression for it. With the progress of knowledge there 
may be a corresponding improvement in language, so that 
fixed definitions and divisions may be universally accepta- 
ble and without contradiction. 

10. Tlie Relation of Reasoning to ^Education. 

Reasoning marks the culmination of all the intellectual 
powers. To be able to reason correctly at all times and 
on all subjects, would imply the perfect discipline of the 
faculties and the conformity of the whole mind to the 
laws of thought. It constitutes, therefore, in a certain 



ELABOBATIVE KNOWLEDaE. 169 

sense, the goal of purely intellectual development. We 
shall consider here : (1) what studies furnish most aid to 
the discipline of Keasoning power ; (2) what conditions 
arise from the use of language as an instrument of Kea- 
soning ; and (3) what limits to Reasoning are fixed in 
the constitution of the mind. 

(1) Disciplinary studies. — No doubt all close observation 
of the forces of Nature in their regular operation tends to 
improve our power of reasoning, for we thus acquire a 
facility in inferring from a given event what will follow 
by Nature^s logic of cause and effect. The helpful influ- 
ence of close observation is much increased when we strive 
to detect a principle in the facts, a law in the phenomena. 
This is Induction. Inductive reasoning finds its best ex- 
emplification and opportunity in the sphere of the experi- 
mental sciences, such as Chemistry, Physics and Physi- 
ology, when pursued as branches of investigation. They 
ought to be pursued inductively, not taught as closed and 
finished systems. Deductive reasoning, on the other hand, 
is best cultivated by the study of Pure Mathematics, in 
which the processes are mainly deductive and the methods 
rigidly logical. The union of the two is found in the 
sphere of Applied Mathematics, where the deductive 
method of abstract reasoning is blended with the condi- 
tional forms of practical calculation. Logic, being the 
science of reasoning, has great value in improving our 
reasoning powers, but if we are to profit much by it we 
must apply it practically until its principles are clearly 
apprehended and fully illustrated. As one may repeat all 
the rules of syntax without speaking correctly, so one may 
repeat all the rules of the syllogism without reasoning cor- 
rectly. 



170 PSYCHOLOGY. 

(2) The instrument of Reasoning, — Nearly all the actual 

reasoning of men is carried on with the aid of language as 
its instrument. Instead of things, we have before the 
mind words, or symbols of things. We treat these ac- 
cording to the rules of Logic, as if they were the realities 
of thought. The traditional Logic inherited from Aris- 
totle deals with ^' terms ■'' and ^^ propositions^' rather 
than with things and judgments. Some logicians, as 
Whately,^ regard Logic as wholly conversant about lan- 
guage ; and some philologists, as Max Miiller, ^ identify 
thought and language. Words certainly abbreviate and 
facilitate mental combinations, and many of these would 
be impossible without words. We can assert and infer 
some things of a figure with a thousand sides ; as, for 
example, that it is not a circle and that it approaches 
nearer to a circle than a square, and yet no one can form 
a mental image of such a figure. But language often 
seriously affects the validity of reasoning. Ambiguous 
words and abstract words treated as if they were things 
are two fertile sources of error in reasoning. It is the 
duty of the teacher to point out these pitfalls in the path 
of reasoning and to show that valid thinking depends 
upon the relations of realities, not upon the relations of 
verbal signs. 

(3) The limits of Reasoning. — It is necessary to make 
plain to the learner that reasoning is confined within cer- 
tain limits. It is difficult for the young mind that has not 
analyzed its own powers to believe that there is any truth 
that is not the result of reasoning, and it is characteristic 
of such minds to push the question, ^*^Why ?" beyond the 
patience of maturer minds. Children want a reason for 
everything. Companionship with them very soon shows 



ELABORATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 171 

us tlie limits of reasoning. When we come to analyze 
the process of . reasoning, we discover that it consists 
simply of re-stating what is already implied in previous 
knowledge. At the basis of all reasoning lie the primary 
affirmations and immediate experiences without which 
reasoning itself would have neither validity nor materials. 
The process of reasoning is merely a relating activity of 
the mind, harmonizing and unifying various forms of 
knowledge, — the materials, so to speak, with which it 
deals. These materials are furnished by our experience 
and by the constitution of our nature that renders experi- 
ence possible. This constitution we can examine and 
describe, but it presents to us ultimate facts and princi- 
ples beyond which Intellect cannot penetrate. Such an 
examination and description are attempted in the next 
chapter, on Constitutive Knowledge. 



In this section, on "Reasoning," we have consid- 
ered : 

1, Definition of Reasoning, 

2, The Assumptions of all Reasoning, 

3, Inductive Reasoning, 

4:, Processes Subsidiary to Induction, 

5, Assumptions of Inductive Inference, 

6, Deductive Reasoning, 

7, Origin of Universal Judgments, 

8, Two Forms of Expressing Deduction, 

9, Sgstematization, 

10, The Relation of Reasoning to Education, 

References : (1) Fowler's Indtictive Logic, p. 3. (2) Mill's System 
of Logic, Book III., Chapter IV. (3) Spencer's Principles of Psy- 
chology, Part IV., Chapter VII. (4) Porter's Human Intellect, 
pp. 497, 526. (5) Whately's Elements of Logic, Book II., Chapter 
I., Section 2. (6) Max Miiller's Science of Thought, I., p. 30. 



CHAPTEH IV. 

CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

DEFINITION AND DIVISION OF CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

Constitutive knowledge is the knowledge that is acquired 
by an examination of those postulates, or assumed truths, 
which are involved in all our intellectual experience. A 

postulate (from the Latin postuldre, to demand) is a 
truth demanded by the mind in order to explain its exper- 
iences. It is not so much a product of experience as it is 
a pre-condition of experience ; for, though it is brought 
to our consciousness only in experience, it is necessary to 
the possibility of experience. More explicitly, in order to 
know, the knowing subject must have a certain constitu- 
tion that enables it to know ; and, in order to he known, 
the known object must have a certain constitution that 
enables it to be known. We now pass to an examination 
of this fourth kind of knowledge. In organizing per- 
cepts, we saw (page 58) that our sense-impressions are 
referred to the four relations of (1) Being, (2) Cause, (3) 
Space and (4) Time. These we found also to constitute 
the leading Categories of Judgment (page 156). We have 
now to ask what we know about these categories, or forms 
of predication, underlying all our other knowledge. We 
have noted successive stages of intellectual activity appear- 
ing in an unfolding order from simple sensation up to 
reasoning, that is, a Development of Intellect. This also 



CONSTIftlTtVE KNOWLEDGE. 173 

requires some examination. These five topics, then^ will 
be tlie subjects of the sections in this Chapter. 

At this point begins the transition to what is usually called On- 
tology, or Metaphysics (see page 2). It is the inevitable culmination 
of Psychology. It is also the dividing-point of the schools of 
philosophy. It is necessary here, without entering upon a full dis- 
cussion, to explain the psychological origin of these schools. 

Empiricism (from the G-reek ejUKEipia, empeiria, experience), re- 
gards nothing as true or certain except what is given in experience. 
We can, therefore, know nothing of the realities, if any exist, out- 
side of, or beyond, experience. Locke and his followers, advo(3ate 
Empiricism and are called "Empiricists" and their methods "Em- 
pirical." It has been the favorite view in English and French 
thinking, though not without important exceptions. 

Transcendentalism (from the Latin transcendere, to go beyond, 
to surpass) regards experience as impossible without certain precon- 
ditions which go beyond, or surpass, experience and render it possi- 
ble. In order to know, there must be certain faculties of knowing 
with a specific nature and constitution. Kant and his followers are 
representatives of Transcendentalism. Kant holds that there are in 
the soul certain a priori principles of knowledge not derived from 
experience, but necessary to it. The Scotch philosophers have held, 
for the most part, a similar view of '^ first principles," but have 
repudiated the name "Transcendentalism," preferring the less pre- 
tentious term, " Common Sense." The words " Transcendentalism " 
and " Empiricism " are used with various shades of meaning diifi- 
cult to discriminate within narrow limits, and the learner will do 
well to use them with caution, and will be safer not to use them at 
all. For the use of the word "Transcendentalism" as applied to 
the views of Ralph Waldo Emerson and other American thinkers, 
see the exposition of their doctrines in Frothingham's" Transcend- 
entalism in America." The word "intuition" also had a peculiar 
meaning for this coterie of thinkers. 

Sensationalism is another designation frequently applied to the 
doctrine of Empiricism, because those who have held the empirical 
view have usually tried to derive all knowledge from mere sensation, 
as Hume and Mill, for example, without admitting the constitution 
of the mind itself as a source of knowledge. 



1*^4 PStCHOLoaT. 

Rationalism is the opposite doctrine, finding the ultimate expla- 
nation of knowledge in the constitution of "Reason," and regarding 
sensation as merely the material of knowledge for which Reason 
supplies the forms. 

In a broad classification of systems, we may form two antithet- 
ical groups : 

(1) Empiricism, Sensationalism and Associationism usually go 
together and are only different names for the same way of thinking. 
Knowledge is supposed to begin in sensation, to consist of nothing 
but " transformed sensation " and to be worked up into its special 
forms by association of ideas, 

(2) Transcendentalism and Rationalism are also different names 
for the same general doctrine. Both terms indicate a claim to 
knowledge of something beyond experience. This may be expressed 
as ^^ a priori knowledge," " first principles, " " primary principles," 
'* primitive beliefs," '* first truths," " intuitions," '* constitutive prin- 
ciples," etc. The general meaning is the same. Transcendentalists 
and Rationalists regard the soul as possessing specific faculties, or 
powers of knowing, and so having a definite constitution. 

Without entering farther into the discussion of these differences, 
we shall proceed to the examination of the necessary postulates of 
knowledge. 



SEGTIOH L 

BEING. 
The Reality of Being. 



The reality of Being is affirmed in the first primary 
affirmation of the soul, " Something is," It is the nec- 
essary correlate of knowledge. The reality of Being is 
incapable of proof, for it is the condition on which all 
proof rests. The denial of it is also impossible, for the 
affirmation of its non-existence would have no rational 
foundation. In every act of knowledge we have an intu- 



CONSTITUTIVE Knowledge. 175 

ition of Being. From such separate experiences we form 
also a concept, or abstract idea, of Being, which is the 
most universal positive notion that we can form. From 
the intuition of Being we formulate three laws of thought 
which constitute the basis of all reasoning, as follows : 

(1) The Law of Identity, Whatever is, is ; 

(2) The Law of Contradiction, Nothing can both be and 
not be ; 

(3) The Law of Excluded Middle, Everything must 
either be or not be. 

These laws of thought constitute the foundation of Logic, 

which is the science of the laws of thought. Upon them are based 
the Canons of the Syllogism and the Rules of the Syllogism, as 
given by writers on Logic. They are fully discussed in all the better 
works on this subject, and a full explanation may be found in *' The 
Elenients of Logic," published by Sheldon and Company, pp. 104, 
123. 

2. Substance and Attribute. 

Substance is the constitutive condition of all experi- 
ence, for that which experiences and that which is ex- 
perienced must he. Differences which are known in con- 
sciousness and are attributed to Being, are attributes of 
Being. Whatever is 'known is known under the relation 
of substance and attribute. Attributes are apprehended 
in experience, are the phenomenal elements of it, and are 
necessarily referred to substance as the reality of which 
they are manifestations. 

"The idea," says Locke, "to which we give the name of sub- 
stance, being nothing but the supposed but unknown support of the 
qualities we find existing, which we imagine cannot subsist, sine re 
suhstante, without something to support them, we call that support 
substantia ; which, according to the true import of the word, is, in 



1% PSTGMOLOar. 

plain English, standing under or upholding."^ That we do uni- 
versally refer every attribute to a substance, is undisputed among 
philosophers. They have, however, given opposite accounts of it 
and reasons for it. Locke, Berkeley, Hume, and the two Mills con- 
sider the idea of substance as a mere artifice of the mind. They 
hold, then, to Phenomenalism, the doctrine that we know phenom- 
ena, or appearances, only. The connection of Phenomenalism and 
Nominalism has been already pointed out. The weakness of Phe- 
nomenalism is precisely that of Nominalism. It lies in ignoring 
outward reality. An object is the sum of all its qualities. Some of 
these are known, others are unknown. The substance of a thing is 
that reality a part of which we apprehend through its attributes as 
known by us and some of whose qualities may be unknown to us. 
If we knew all, substance would be entirely disclosed. Substance 
and attributes are in reality inseparable. We mentally separate one 
or more attributes from the others, which together with them con- 
stitute a thing, by the process of abstraction. The doctrine of Rela- 
tionism requires us to refer every attribute «to the* other qualities 
with which it is associated and to consider them all as real in their 
concrete combination. The distinction between substance and at- 
tribute is thus a simply relative one, but essential to the mind's 
activity. Kant distinguished between Phenomena (attributes as ap- 
pearing to us) and Noumenon (substance not manifested to our 
knowledge). Here is the great weakness of his system ; for, if phe- 
nomena are products of the mind created by its inherent forms, as 
he holds, how do we know that there is any noumenon, or objective 
reality ? If there is objective reality, why should all differences of 
quality and quantity be referred, as he refers them, to the forms of 
the mind 9 Relationism affords more solid ground, affirming that 
the qualities of a thing exist where the thing exists, and, taken in 
their totality, constitute it. 

3. Two Kinds of Being". 

As our knowledge of Being is obtained through its 
attributes, we are warranted in distinguishing as many 
kinds of Being as there are antithetical and inconvertible 
groups of attributes. These are two : 



. CONSTITXITIV:^ KNOWLEDGE. 177 

(1) Matter, having the attributes of space-occupancy, 
impenetrability and sense-presentation ; and 

(2) Spirit, having the attributes of self-conscious intel- 
ligence, sensibility and volition. ' 

These two groups of attributes are both antithetical and 
inconvertible. 

As examples of their antithesis take the following : Mat- 
ter is not known to possess intelligence, sensibility, or 
volition. No chemical synthesis has succeeded in so com- 
bining the elements of matter as to endow them with 
these powers. On the other hand, spirit is not known to 
fill any portion of space, though it has location in a bodily 
organism. No material element is known to be lost when 
the spirit leaves the body. Spirit is not known to be im- 
penetrable ; but, on the contrary, the greater the number 
of ideas possessed by the soul, the greater the number it 
is capable of receiving. The states of the self-conscious 
spirit, such as hopes, joys, fears, desires, concepts, etc., 
are not known as occupying space, or as being capable of 
sense-presentation. 

The inconvertibility of the two groups of attributes is 
admitted by all eminent thinkers. The physical forces, 
— heat, light, electricity, chemical action, gravity, and 
probably nervous force, — are convertible into one another; 
so that, beginning with any one, the others can be pro- 
duced. Thought, feeling and volition are not thus cor- 
related with the physical forces. Not only has the ex- 
perimental production of any form of consciousness been 
thus far impossible, but, as Tyndall says : '^The passage 
from the physics of the brain to the corresponding facts 
of consciousness is unthinhaUe" ^ 

By the tests of antithesis and inconvertibility, there- 



178 ' PsWSOLOaY. 

fore, we distinguish matter and spirit as different kinds 
of Being. 

This distinction is not like that by which the chemist discrim- 
inates between two elements, such as oxygen and hydrogen. The dif- 
ference in that case is one of combining power, in the case of matter 
and spirit it is one of hind. We have no scientific warrant for effac- 
ing the distinction marked, as it is, in every literature, universal in 
human speech and fundamental in all thought. The theorist may, 
indeed, go farther and say that, in the unknown reality of both mind 
and matter there may be a unity that is beyond our penetration. 
This is possible, but it is mere hypothesis, it is not science. We are 
not, therefore, prepared to teach it as science when even the most 
eminent physicists would object to this identification of mind and 
matter. In the present state of science, Dualistic Realism is, there- 
fore, Scientific Realism. Monism, in every form, is mere hypothe- 
sis. When mind and matter can be identified experimentally by 
making matter conscious in the laboratory, or even in conception by 
rendering the attributes of the one intellectually translatable into 
the attributes of the other. Monism will be established, but not until 
this is done. It would then assume the form of Idealism, if all were 
resolved into mind; of Materialism, if all were resolved into matter. 
Agnostic Monism is simply a learned expression of the inability to 
effect this resolution and is essentially TioTi-scientific, introducing a 
term of ignorance in the place of knowledge. 

4. Quantity. 

Quantity (from the Latin quantum, how much) involves 
the distinction of more or less. It may be applied to any 
thing that admits of degree, that is, to any thing that is 
measurable. A line, a surface, or a magnitude is de- 
scribed as having quantity. A force also, like steam- 
power, has quantity, although we cannot assign it dimen- 
sions. We measure it by a unit of intensity, not by a unit 
of magnitude. We have then, (1) extensive quantity, or 
quantity in space, and (2) intensive quantity, or quantity 



CONSTITUTIVE KMO^LEBQE. Yi^ 

in power. We may add also (3) protensive quantity, or 
quantity in time ; as when we compare minutes and hours, 
days and weeks. 

5. Quality. 

Quality (from the Latin qualis, of what kind) involves 
the distinction of hind. The quality of a thing is that 
which constitutes its difference from things of other 
kinds. Intellect, as discriminative activity, is chiefly 
occupied with qualities. 

6. Modality. 

Modality (from the Latin modus, manner) involves the 
distinction of manner of existence. Water may be liquid, 
solid or gaseous ; wax may be liquid, plastic or solid. 
These are modes ot being. 

7. Number. 

Unity (from the Latin unus, one) involves the idea of 
oneness. Unity is opposed to plurality (from the Latin 
plus, more). The world of things presents to us indi- 
viduals, that is, numerical units, and yet is itself one, that 
is, a whole, or system in which unity underlies the ap- 
parent diversity of phenomena. It is this recognition of 
the one in the many that has given rise to the idea of the 
universe (from the Latin unus, one, and versum, turning, 
implying that all turns about one centre, or is a unit). 

Number involves (1) the establishment of a unit and (2) a process 
of counting. "Number," says Bowne, "seems to adhere so closely 
to the objects that to know them seems to be the same as knowing 
their number. Yet this, again, is only the old error which identi- 
fies plurality in experience with experience of plurality. The very 



180 PSYCHOLOGY. 

"utmost that could be allowed would be that unity inheres in the 
object ; the conception of plurality arises only as the mind takes the 
separate units together. Until this is done, we have not number, 
but the unit repeated; the countable, but not the counted. Each 
object maybe one; but no object is two or three, etc. The clock 
may strike one repeatedly, but by no possibility can it do more. Our 
ears might give us the separate strokes, but they cannot hear their 
number. Hence we pass from units to number only by a process of 
counting, or of adding unit to unit. Number is no property of 
things in themselves, but only of things united by the mind in nu- 
n^erical relations."^ (3) That counting is a mental process, is evident 
from the remark of the half-intoxicated man who heard the clock 
strike three and said, "That clock must be greatly out of order, it 
has struck one three times!'''' Unity may in the same way be re- 
garded as depending upon the manner in which the mind regards 
objects. A tree is one tree really and objectively as well as mentally, 
and ten trees are ten trees in like manner, but the mind may con- 
template the one tree as composed of a hundred branches or of ten 
thousand twigs. The relations of number always belong where the 
things are, for "number" is essentially an abstraction. For this 
reason we have the infinitely small as well as the infinitely large. 
Taking any unit, it is possible to divide and subdivide it mentally 
without limit. This simply signifies that the act of mind may be 
repeated without end, and here lies the solution of many logical 
puzzles. If one mental process gets the start of another, as in the 
famous case of Achilles and the tortoise, the belated one can never 
overtake the other without violating the conditions, but in reality 
Achilles leaps over the tortoise in the first few steps. 

8. Kelation. 

Relation (from the Latin re, back, and latum, bear- 
ing) involves a reference of one thing to another. This 
reference is based on a real connection or disposition of 
things as they are apprehended by us. Identity is same- 
ness of substance. Eolations of equality exist when things 
are equal in quantity. Eelations of resemblance indicate 
a Uheness between qualities, of things. Eelations of co- 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 181 

existence and relations of succession are also noted in our 
apprehension of things. Kelations are not things and yet 
they are real. They are the connections which unite in- 
dividual things into higher unities. It is through them, 
as we have seen, that reasoning is rendered valid. 

The relativity of all human knowledge is affirmed by Hamilton 
and many other thinkers. He says, "In enouncing relativity as a 
condition of the thinkable, in other words, that thought is only of 
the relative, this is tantamount to saying that we think one thing 
only as we think two things mutually and at once; which again is 
equivalent to a declaration that the Absolute (the non-Relative) is 
for us incogitable and even incognizable."* " In this," he says, " all 
philosophers are at one." It is true that the process of knowledge is 
a process of relating, and that nothing can be known that is out of 
all relation to every thing else, including the knowing subject. But 
it is a mistake to identify the Absolute with the non-Helative. Such 
an Absolute has never been thought about by any one, for the reason 
that it is impossible to think about it. But the real Absolute is that 
which is not in a' relation of dependence. The Absolute is the self- 
sufficient, the self -subsisting, not the ' ' non-Eelative." Hamilton 
and his follower, Henry L. Mansel (1830-1871), who fell into Hamil- 
ton's error in his " Philosophy of the Conditioned " and " Limits of 
Religious Thought," in identifying the Absolute with the non-Rela- 
tive, create difficulties which have puzzled many minds and enlight- 
ened none. There is no real opposition between the relative and the 
Absolute. In thinking of Creator and created at the same time, we 
bring the two into relation, a relation of causality on the part of the 
Creator and of dependence on the part of the created. Thus the rel- 
ative and the Absolute are related in thought and may be in reality. 
Herbert Spencer is in this direction a follower of Hamilton to a cer- 
tain extent, but has thus demonstrated the existence of the Absolute, 
although he holds that we cannot know its nature : " Observe in the 
first place, that every one of the arguments by which the relativity 
of our knowledge is demonstrated, distinctly postulates the positive 
existence of something beyond the relative. To say that we cannot 
know the Absolute, is, by implication, to affirm that there is an Ab- 
golute. In the very denial of our power to learn what the Absolute 



182 PSYCHOLOaY. 

is, there lies hidden the assumption that it is ; and the making of 
this assumption proves, that the Absolute has been present to the 
mind, not as a nothing, but as a something. Similarly with every 
step in the reasoning by which this doctrine (the relativity of knowl- 
edge) is tipheld. The noumenon, everywhere named as the antithesis 
of the phenomenon, is throughout necessarily thought of as an actu- 
ality. ... If the non-Relative or Absolute is present in thought 
only as a mere negation, then the relation between it and the rela- 
tive becomes unthinkable, because one of the terms of the relation is 
absent from consciousness. And if this relation is unthinkable, 
then is the relative itself unthinkable, for want of antithesis: 
whence results the disappearance of all thought whatever."^ 

9. Infinity. 

s 

Infinity (from the Latin in, not, Siudi finis, end or limit) 
mvobfQ^ th.Q absence of limit. ^^ The Infinite" has been 
represented by Hamilton and others as a ^^ negative no- 
tion/^ and so it is, the same as ''The Quantity'' would 
be if there were no positive content. But, starting with 
an intuition of Being, we have a positive content. Do we 
reach a ^^ negative notion ^^ when we think away all limits, 
or do we retain our positive object of intuition. Being, 
now thought of as Infinite ? Certainly we have not 
destroyed the content of Being in thinking away the 
limits. We cannot, indeed, comprehend, or know as a 
whole, Infinite Being ; for a whole implies quantity, and 
no quantity can be infinite, for quantity involves the 
distinction of more or less. We may, however, say that 
we apprehend Infinite Being, that is, we apprehend Being 
without the ability to fix any limits whatever. Being 
transcends our power of representation as soon as we drop 
the limits that bound its finite forms, but not our power 
of conception. We can conceive of Being as possessing 
qualities, irrespective of quantity ; but we cannot repre- 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE, 183 

sent such Being, for the very act of representation is a 
limitation. If, having thus conceived Being, we stop 
short of representation, what have we ? Infinite Being. 

Herbert Spencer has expressed his view upon this point as fol- 
lows: " Our notion of the limited is composed, first of a conscious- 
ness of some kind of Being, and secondly of a consciousness of the 
limits under which it is known. In the antithetical notion of the 
unlimited, the consciousness of limits is abolished ; hut not the con- 
sciousness of some kind of Being. It is quite true that in the ab- 
sence of conceived limits, this consciousness ceases to be a concept 
properly so called ; but it is none the less true that it remains as a 
mode of consciousness. If, in these cases, the negative contra- 
dictory were, as alleged (by Hamilton), 'nothing else' than the 
negation of the other, and therefore a mere nonentity, then it would 
clearly follow that negative contradictories could be used inter- 
changeably; the unlimited might be thought of as antithetical to 
the divisible; and the indivisible as antithetical to the limited. 
"While the fact that they cannot be so used, proves that in con- 
sciousness the unlimited and the indivisible are qualitatively dis- 
tinct, and therefore positive and real ; since distinction cannot exist 
between nothings. The error (very naturally fallen into by philoso- 
phers intent on demonstrating the limits and conditions of con- 
sciousness) consists in assuming that consciousness contains nothing 
but limits and conditions ; to the entire neglect of that which is 
limited and conditioned." ^ 

An American philosophical writer, George S. Fullerton (1859- 
), in his work on "The Conception of the Infinite," has shown 
that the idea of the Infinite is not qucmtitative but qualitative. He 
thinks it possible to form a true concept of the Infinite. " The Infi- 
nite," however, is something very abstract and, without positive con- 
tents, is not very significant for thought, even if the concept can be 
formed. Unless this concept of *' The Infinite " is filled with real con- 
tents, it seems to have only a speculative value. If, however, the view 
presented in the text above be correct, and the validity of a concept 
of "Infinite Being" is also accepted, the doctrine of Relationism 
(pages 145, 146) would admit an Infinite Being into our practical as 
well as our theoretical interests. Calderwood's " Philosophy of the 
Ijifinite " may be recommended as an able treatment of the subject, 



184- PSYCHOLOGY, 

In tMs section, on "Being," we have considered:— 

1, The Meality of Being, 

2, Substance and Attribute, 

3, Two Kinds of Being : {!) Matter and {2) Spirit, 

4, Quantity, 

5, Quality, 

6, Modality, 
t. Number, 

8, Belation, 

9. Infinity, 

References : (1) Locke's Essay Concerning Hvmcm Understand- 
ing, Book II., Chapter XXIII. (2) Tyndall's Fragments of Science, 
p. 121. (3) Bowne's Introduction to Psychological Theory, pp. 153, 
154. (4) Hamilton's Lectures on Metaphysics, p. 689. (5) Spencer's 
First Principles, pp. 88, 91. (6) Id., p. 90. 



SKGTIOIT !!♦ 

CAUSE. 

1, Various Senses of the Word ** Cause." 

The general idea of a " Cause " is that without which 
an event called the ^^ Effect-'^ cannot be. Aristotle distin- 
guished four kinds of causes : (1) Efficient Cause, the 
agency by which a change is produced ; (2) Final Cause, 
the directing idea, or end for which an act is performed ; 
(3) Material Cause, the substance of which any thing is 
made and without which it could not be ; and (4) Formal 
Cause, the plan that is embodied in what is done. We 
may simplify our discussion of the subject by confining 
ourselves to efficient and final causes ; for material cause 
is some kind of substance, and formal cause is a result of 
final cause as a directing idea. 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 185 

2. Opinions on the IS'ature of Efficient Cause. 

Various opinions have been held concerning the nature 
of efficient Cause, and it is important that these should 
be stated. 

(1) Resolution of Cause into Antecedent and Conse- 
quent. — According to Hume, and he is followed by the 
Associational School generally, our idea of Cause is noth- 
ing but a connection established in the mind by the asso- 
ciation of ideas, — antecedents in time being taken as 
causes, and consequents in time being regarded as effects. 
In this view, phenomena are considered as having no nec- 
essary tendency to produce one another and every thing 
beyond mere phenomena is denied. If this doctrine were 
true, day ought to be regarded as the cause of night and 
each preceding letter in the alphabet as the cause of the 
following one. 

Hume states his doctrine thus: "When one particular species of 
events has always, in all instances, been conjoined with another, we 
make no scruple of foretelling one upon the appearance of the other 
and of employing that reasoning which can alone assure us of any 
matter of fact or existence. We then call the one object Cause, the 
other Effect.^ He then goes on to point out that a number of in- 
stances differ from a single instance in nothing but the power to 
create a habit of thought in us, so that we come to think of things 
conjoined in time as sustaining the relation of cause and effect, "a 
conclusion," he admits, "which is somewhat extraordinary, but 
which seems founded on sufficient evidence." * 

J. S. Mill attempts to Improve the doctrine of Hume as follows : 
*' Invariable sequence ... is not synonymous with causation, unless 
the sequence, besides being invariable, is unconditional." '^' He de- 
fines "unconditional " as "subject to no other than negatiyecongli- 
tions," and explains that "negative conditions . . . may 'all be 
summed up under one head, namely, the absence of preventing or 



186 PSYCHOLOGY. 

counteracting causes." ^ Mill seems to be unable to state the case 
without involving the unexplained idea of "cause." 

(2) Resolution of Cause into Subjective Experience. — A 

French philosopher, Maine de Biran (1766-1824), ad- 
vanced the doctrine that, as active agents, we have an 
immediate knowledge of efficient cause in our own con- 
scious acts, from which we infer that all events have effi- 
cient causes. It cannot be denied that we consciously 
cause certain acts, but this alone does not warrant us in 
concluding that all external phenomena are produced in 
like manner. Such an inference would be an act of in- 
duction, and no process of induction is valid unless the 
Law of Universal Causation is assumed (see page 164). 
The reasoning, then, is in a circle. 

While the doctrine of De BIran does not explain our knowledge 
of causation, It serves to refute the position of Hume, for it gives 
us knowledge of causes in actual experience. This, of course, Hume 
denies, but he also denies many other facts well attested by the com- 
mon consciousness and capable of being tested by any individual 
consciousness. Each one must determine for himself whether or not 
he is consciously causative in the sense intended. 

(3) Resolution of Cause into a Relation of Concepts. — 
Kant and other German philosophers have resolved Cause 
into a mere form of thought imposed by the mind itself, 
and not existent as a relation between things. It thus 
becomes merely a necessary relation of concepts. We 
must think of causes, although they may not really exist. 
Here Kant^s characteristic reference of Being to the forms 
of Knowing, instead of regarding Knowing as a correlate 
of Being and dependent upon it, is again manifested, as 
it is also in his treatment of Tinie aud Space, Whoever 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 187 

has accepted the doctrine of Relationism (pages 145, 146) 
will have no difficulty in seeing that the relation of cause 
and effect must exist where things exist. 

Kant says : "In order that this (the relation of phenomena) may 
be known as determined, it is necessary to Conceive the relation be- 
tween the two states in such a way that it should be determined 
thereby with necessity, which of the two should be taken as coming 
first, and which as second, and not conversely. Such a concept, in- 
volving a necessity of synthetical unity, can be a pure concept of 
the Understanding only, which is not supplied by experience, and 
this is, in this case, the concept of the relation of cause and effect^ 
the former determining the latter in time as the conseqnence, not as 
something that by imagination might as well be antecedent, or not 
to be perceived at all." ^ 

(4) Resolution of Cause into an Impotenoy of Mind. — 
Hamilton advances a singular explanation of the idea of 
Cause. He holds that, having once thought of Being, it 
is impossible to think of it as not existing. It must be 
thought of as existing in time. We cannot, therefore, 
think of it as not existing in any period of past time or 
any period of future time. Thus we have a certain com- 
plement of Being that could not have originated from 
nothing and cannot be annihilated in thought. The phe- 
nomena presented in this complement of Being at any 
time can, therefore, be thought of only as modifications 
of the phenomena of past time. The present phenomena 
we call '' effects " and the past phenomena '' causes. '^ Our 
idea of Cause thus results from our inability to thinh of 
Being as non-existent. The idea of Cause, however, is 
essentially that of efficiency, or productive power, in Being. 
It is Being in action. Being might exist without becom- 
ing the cause of anything. Hamilton's exposition i§ 



188 PSYCHOLOGY, 

simply a very awkward way of saying that we cannot 
think of something as derived from nothing, which is 
better expressed in the words, ^^ Every event lias a cause J^ 

Hamilton says : " When we are aware of something which begins 
to be, we are by the necessity of our intelligence constrained to be- 
lieve that it has a cause. But what does the expression, ' that it has 
a cause,' signify ? If we analyze our thought, we shall find that it 
simply means that as we cannot conceive any new existence to com- 
mence, therefore, all that now is seen to arise under a new appear- 
ance had previously an existence under a prior form." ^' Ex nihilo 
nihil, in nihilum nil posse reverti, — ' Nothing can arise from noth- 
ing, nothing can return to nothing,' "—expresses in its purest form 
the whole intellectual phenomenon of causality.^ 

(5) Resolution of the idea of Cause into an Intuition.^ 

The Scotch philosophers generally since Reid have consid- 
ered the idea of Cause as an intuition. It is intuitively 
known that every event must have a cause, that is, some- 
thing has efficiently produced it. Of conditions, some 
are passive. These may be called '* occasions." Others 
are active, and these may be called " causes." If a run- 
away horse kills a child in the street, the child^s being in 
the way is the occasion and the blow from the horse is the 
cause of its death. All we can say is, that we know intu- 
itively that every event must have a cause, and all our 
experience exemplifies this truth. The knowledge of cau- 
sality does not, however, arise before but in experience. 

It will not do to say that causation is simply a form of intelli- 
gence and not also a law of things. So far as we have knowledge of 
things, the law applies to them. We assume it in our earliest as well 
as in our latest mental activities, and expect to find a cause even for 
those events which seem inexplicable. Causality seems to be a 
structural law of both mind and matter. It is like a law of thought, 
perfectly obvious and undeniable thQ momejit it is stated, It js not 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 189 

necessary to know how we can know a universal law, in order to be 
sure of it. The conviction lies deeper than all the processes of 
knowledge. Those who have sought to weaken confidence in the 
reality of causation have themselves always assumed it. The case 
is excellently stated by Bowne : "All the manifold ' explanations' 
which Sensationalism has vouchsafed to a long-suffering world con- 
sist in showing how antecedent mental states must determine new 
mental states, according to the laws of association ; and as for sen- 
sations, most Sensationalists have had no hesitation in referring them 
to external causes without scruple, or even suspicion of the incon- 
sistency. Concerning any conception of our mature life, we are 
warned against taking it as an original mental fact. We are told 
how it came about as a deposit of experience, either in us or in our 
ancestors. If a suggestion of freedom is made, it is frowned upon 
forthwith as one of the most unscientific ideas possible, if not a 
trace of an antiquated superstition. But if Sensationalism be ad- 
mitted, all this is hopelessly inconsistent. No idea is, or is as it is, 
because any other idea was; rather some ideas were and some other 

ideas are If anything is or occurs, we must not ask why ; 

for there is no why ! Thus all the explanations of Sensationalism 
disappear, and by sheer excess the doctrine cancels itself." ® 



3. Final Cause. 

Final Cause {causa finalis) is thus explained by Aris- 
totle : *^^ Another sort of cause is the end, that is to say, 
that on account of which the action is done ; for example, 
in this sense, health is the cause of taking exercise. Why 
does such a one take exercise ? We say it is in order to 
have good health ; and, in speaking thus, we mean to 
name the cause. ^' It is the final cause that is inquired 
after in the question, what for f Efficient causes are re- 
garded as determining present effects from the past ; that 
is, my previous strength is the efficient cause of my taking 
exercise, without which I could not take it. Final causes 
are regarded as determining present effects through rela- 



190 PSYOHOLOGY, 

tion to the future, that is, I would not take the exercise, 
if it were not for the health I hope to gain by it. As 
Kant has expressed it, final cause involves "the predeter- 
mination of the parts by the idea of the whole/' 

4, The Principle of Final Cause. 

The maxim, ^^ Every heing has an end" was stated by 
the French philosopher, T. S. Jouffroy (1796-1842), as a 
constitutive principle, co-ordinate with the principle of 
Causality. It seems better to regard it as a special case 
under that principle. Adaptations are among the com- 
mon phenomena of experience. They surround us on 
every side. They are effects, and must be referred to 
adequate causes for their explanation. They are simply a 
special class of effects. They differ from other effects in 
implying that in the production of one object, as for ex- 
ample the human eye, there was a combination of efficient 
causes with reference to something other than itself, as for 
example light, so that vision is the result of the adapta- 
tion. This combination is what needs to be explained, 
and requires a cause capable of foreseeing and providing 
for the end to be attained. 

It is said by some philosophers that final cause, or intelligent pur- 
pose, does not exist, except in man's own activities and in his own 
thought of external things. This tendency to think of general ac- 
tion as implying an end, or purpose, as personal action does, has 
received the name of Anthropomorphism (from the Greek dvdponoq, 
anthropos, man, and fiop(l)7}, morphe, form), implying that this is 
only a fashion of human thinking, without objective validity. 
Those who have repudiated teleology (from the Greek riTiOc, telos, 
end, and loyog, logos), and have attempted to reduce everything to 
mechanism, have never been able to avoid involving the idea of final 
cause even in their statements of their own doctrine. Ernst Haeokel 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 191 

(1834- ), the German naturalist, says: "Inheritance is the cen- 
tripetal or internal formative tendency which strives to keep the 
organic form in its species, to form the descendants like the parents 
and always to produce identical things from generation to genera- 
tion. Adaptation, on the other hand, which counteracts Inher- 
itance, is the centrifugal or external formative tendency, which con- 
stantly strives to change the organic forms through the influence of 
the varying agencies of the outer world, to create new forms out of 
those existing, and entirely to destroy the constancy or permanency 
of species." ' Here are ^^ formative tendencies " " striving " to realize 
different ends and actually succeeding ! And yet Haeckel says, 
'* We concede exclusive dominion to that view of the universe which 
we may designate as the mechanical and which is opposed to the 
teleological conception." ^ Is it possible that a "formative ten- 
dency" "striving" "to keep" and "to form," "to change," and 
*^' to create " should be mechanical and not teleological ? Take also 
Tierbert Spencer's definition of "life." He says : "Life is defina- 
ble as the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external 
relations." ® Such an " adjustment " embodies the teleological prin- 
ciple, the use of means for the accomplishment of ends. A machine 
never adjusts itself. It is itself an adjustment of forces related as 
means to ends. And yet Spencer rejects all teleology and even the 
presence of a "formative power" such as Haeckel describes.^" No 
naturalist has ever yet been able to state the facts and conditions of 
organic life and development without involving the teleological idea, 
however stoutly he may deny the reality of a final cause. 



5. Distinctions of Teleological Terms. 

There are certain terms whose equivalents are to be 
found in all developed languages, that need to be ex- 
plained, in order to enable us to apply the principle of 
final cause. These are as follows : 

(1) Chance. — AflBrming that an event has come by 
'' chance " is not a denial that it has an efficient cause. 
Chance is the combination of several systems of causes 
which are developed each in its own series independently 



192 PSYCHOLOGY. 

of the others. Thus, two men start out of their houses to 
go about their affairs, each without reference to the other. 
If they meet, they meet by chance, because two discon- 
nected systems of forces bring them together. If a person 
sends for them both at the same time, with the intention 
that they shall meet, they meet by his design. 

The French philosopher, Paul Janet (1823- \ in his admirable 
work on "Final Causes," says: "It sometimes occurs — often, even 
— ^that two series of phenomena happen together, yet without our 
being able to say that they have any action upon each other ; and it 
is even a pleasure to our mind to find out what will happen in this 
case. For instance, if, in the game of rouge-et-noir I bet that the 
black will win, and it wins accordingly, it is clear that my desire 
and my word could not have had any influence on the winning ol 
one color or the other, and likewise that the arrangement of the 
cards, which I did not know, could not have had any influence on 
the choice I have made. In this case two series of facts, absolutely 
independent of each other, have happened to coincide with each 
other, and to harmonize, without any mutual influence. This kind 
of coincidence is what is called chance ; and it is upon the very 
uncertainty of this coincidence that the pleasure, and at the same 
time, the terrible temptation, of games of hazard rests." ^^ It is 
evident, then, that chance is not an entity, not a cause, but simply 
a relation between two series of causes and effects acting inde- 
pendently. The explanation of anything, therefore, is not to be 
found in chance, but in the series of causes whose results happen to 
be combined. 

(2) Adaptation. — A fitness of one thing for another is 
called '^adaptation." It may b6 a chance adaptation, 
that is, result without design, but where the points of fit- 
ness are numerous the probability of chance is eliminated 
and we are forced to look for design. Other adaptations 
are known to be designed. Design is a true cause, that 
is, it is a superintending and directing power. 



CONSTITUTIVE KMOWLEDGE. 193 

Janet gives the following beautiful illustration of adaptation be- 
tween the conditions of life in the %gg of a bird and the external 
conditions to which it is adapted: *'0n the outside there is a phys- 
ical agent called light ; within, there is fabricated an optical machine 
adapted to light: outside, there is an agent called sound; inside, an 
acoustic machine adapted to sound : outside, vegetables and ani- 
mals ; inside, stills and alembics adapted to the assimilation of these 
substances: outside, a medium, solid, liquid or gaseous; inside, a 
thousand means of locomotion, adapted to the air, the earth or the 
water. Thus, on the one hand, there are the final phenomena called 
sight, hearing, nutrition, flying, walking, swimming, etc. ; on the 
other, the eyes, the ears, the stomach, the wings, the fins, the motive 
members of every sort. We see clearly in these examples the two 
terms of the relation, — on the one hand, a system ; on the other, the 
final phenomena in which it ends. Were there only system and 
combination, as in crystals, still, as we have seen, there must have 
been a special cause to explain that system and that combination." 
*' The external physical world and the internal laboratory of the liv- 
ing being are separated from each other by impenetrable veils, and 
yet they are united to each other by an incredible pre-established 
harmony." ^* 

(3) Order. — A regular succession or arrangement of 
events or objects involves what is called '^ order. ^' A 
fixed and unchanging order needs to he accounted for as 
well as a new and unfolding order, hut it does not attract 
our attention so powerfully. The estahlished order does 
not seem so ivonderful as a departure from it, hut it is 
really more so, hecause it is more perfect. Order cannot 
he produced hy chance, for the conditions of chance neces- 
sitate the ahsence of order and a series of chances which 
would produce disorder. The only explanation of order 
is design. 

"The invisible agreement of phenomena must be explained like 
each visible phenomenon taken separately ; this co-ordination is an 
effect which must have its cause. For example, the geometrical 



194 PSYCHOLO&f. 

forms which minerals take in crystallizing may not, indeed, reveal 
any final cause ; but no one will venture to say that this geometric 
arrangement is an indifferent fact of which it is useless to seek the 
cause, and that it is by chance and by a simple coincidence that the 
molecules of such a mineral always happen to arrange themselves 
under the form of a hexahedron, of a dodecahedron, for that which 
happens in a constant manner cannot be the effect of a mere acci- 
dent." 13 

(4) Correlation, — ^When the parts of a whole are related 
to one another as ends and means, they are said not only 
to be adapted and to constitute an order, but they are cor- 
related. Kant says, '' The organized being is the being 
in which all is reciprocally end and means." Thus, the 
human body as an organism is a correlated whole in which 
each organ is at once an end and a means. Here adapta- 
tions multiply and become exceedingly complex, so as to 
exclude chance as an explanation and necessitate the 
hypothesis of design. 

When treating of Imagination, it was stated that no one had 
imagined a new animal. The reason is found in the nature of an 
organism, or correlated interdependence of organs. The great nat- 
uralist Cuvier said: " In order that the claws may be able to seize, 
a certain mobility in the toes wUl be necessary, a certain strength in 
the nails, whence there will result determinate forms in all the 
phalanges and necessary distributions of muscles and of tendons. 
It will be necessary that the fore-arm have a certain ease in turning, 
whence, again, will result determinate forms to the bones which 
compose it. But the bones of the fore-arm, being articulated on 
the humerus, cannot change their forms without involving changes 
in the latter. . . . The play of all these parts will require certain 
proportions in all their muscles and the impressions of these muscles, 
thus proportioned, will again determine more particularly the form 
of the bones." ^^ While the comparative anatomist maybe able from 
a single bone to reconstruct in fancy the whole animal to which it be- 
longed, with this datum to work upon, no one has possessed the power 



aoNsTiTirtiv:^ knowljsdo]^. 105 

to create mentally an entire animal organism that would fulfill all 
the complicated conditions of organic life. 

(5) Convergence. — There are cases where the adapta- 
tions converge upon a single point, marking it as the end 
toward which all the efficient causes have worked. Thus, 
all the parts of so highly complicated a structure as the eye 
are means to the one ideal end of sight. Here the past 
has been determined by an end that has relation to the 
future. The idea seems to have existed somewhere before 
the organ, and the organ has been adapted to its function 
by the converging action of many efficient causes. 

If we fix our attention upon any definite combination of matter in 
the structure of the eye, it is evident that it was put there by effi- 
cient causes. Final cause does not, then, exclude efficient causes or 
render them unnecessary. But the special problem is to explain the 
combination, internal and external, to be found in the eye. What 
has combined and directed these efficient causes in the formation of 
an eye ? If we say it is the reaction of light upon sensitive nerve- 
substance, we simply push back the problem, but it remains a prob- 
lem still. What directing power combined the sensitive elements in 
the nerve-substance and endowed them with sensibility ? What 
power adapted the light to the rudimentary possibility of an eye, so 
as to effect its development ? By pushing back the problem we only 
broaden and deepen it. It shows us more and more clearly the 
range and extent of adaptations throughout the entire universe. 
Even the German philosopher, Eduard von Hartmann (1842- ), 
who has denied all consciousness of plan and purpose in the uni- 
verse, outside of finite creatures, admits an unconscious teleology, 
an inherent final cause in every form of being, and even makes it 
the basis of his "Philosophy of the Unconscious." 

6. Conditions Implied in Final Cause. 

Final cause implies as its necessary conditions : (1) Fore- 
knowledge of the end before the causes are combined for 



19(3 PSYCHOLOOT. 

its realization ; (2) Determination to realize the end; (3) 
Supremacy over the efficient causes by which alone the 
end can be realized. 

To this doctrine of final causes there is but one scientific 
objection. It is^, that final causes are mithropomorpMc. 
Efficient causes, it is said, are necessary to account for all 
phenomena ; but final causes exist only in the mind of 
man. But are efficient causes, as known or knowable by 
the mind of man, any less anthropomorphic ? In truth, 
no explanation can satisfy the mind of man but one that 
is anthropomorphic, for that alone can be an explanation 
to him which resolves phenomena into terms of his own 
nature and experience, and what is this but anthropo- 
morphism ? When Haeckel and others speak reproach- 
fully of final causes because they are anthropomorphic, 
they should remember that efficient causes, as known and 
reasoned about by man, are not less anthropomorphic. In 
order to reason correctly, must man abnegate the very 
rational nature by which alone he is able to reason at all ? 
The reason why mechanical forces alone do not explain 
the universe to man is precisely this : they are not an- 
thropomorphic enough to account for man. 

If man is to have any explanation of his existence, 
which his rational nature has always demanded and still 
demands, he must find it either by explaining the uni- 
verse in terms of personality, or by explaining his own 
personality in impersonal terms. And let us remember 
here that evolution is not unfavorable to a personal ex- 
planation, because evolution is only a formal and not a 
causal theory. It tells how, but not why. It gives the 
process, but not the cause. In seeking the cause we may 
fairly fix upon the highest product of evolution and de- 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE, 197 

mand for this an adequate explanation. And, again, as 
there is advance from low to high modes of being in the 
line of evolution, it is fair to regard the permanent cause 
as transcending the lowest form of being, or else the cause 
would not be adequate to the production of the highest. 
The cause may be for a time unmanifested in the effect, 
but it must exist latently or it could not be adequate for 
the highest and final eifect. Evolution, therefore, in- 
volves the existence of a transcendent cause, to render the 
progress possible. Otherwise, the cause would be ex- 
hausted in the^rs^ effect and further development would 
not follow. The highest mode of being directly known 
to us is personality, — rational, self-determining intelli- 
gence. If there be a higher, and this is possible, it must 
still be conceived by us under this form. Nothing less 
than personality can explain personality. Nothing can 
be an explanation to me that is not in terms of my own 
nature. What I know directly in consciousness is thought, 
feeling and volition. To translate these into anything 
else is to substitute new thought for old, but it is thought 
still, or it is nothing intelligible. To say that thought is 
the result of matter or of force, is to say nothing, until 
the nature of matter or force is made plain to me^ and 
then it has been translated into thought again. When 
matter and force have been explained to me, I find the 
explanation in the hnowledge finally given. Abstract the 
knowledge, and we spoil the explanation. Thought, then, 
is ultimate. Matter and force are but phases of thought, 
so far as they mean an3rthing to me. They must be 
thought ly me before they are an explanation, but when 
they are my thought the explanation is found in the 
thought about them, they do not explain the thought. 



198 PSYCHOLOaY, 

I am a force working for rational ends. I require, there- 
fore, to account for myself^ a rational cause. 

7. The Ultimate Cause. 

All phenomena, being events, are caused. All the facts 
of human experience, — the birth and development of every 
living being and the formation of the earth and the other 
planets, — are phenomena that have appeared in an or- 
dered succession of events. If nothing exists but phe- 
nomena, we must allow thought to follow back the series 
of events and causes without limit, that is, to infinity, 
without ever coming upon o. first cause. If, however, we 
admit the existence of Absolute Being, we arrive at last at 
an Ultimate Cause ; which, not being an event, but Self- 
sufficient Being, is not the result of any cause. This is, 
undoubtedly, a necessity of human thought. The mind 
rests at last upon the Self-existent, the Absolute and 
Ultimate. 

An American thinker, J. Lewis Diman (1831-1881), has very forci- 
bly expressed this necessity of thought as follows: "Accepting this 
principle, which no one will deny, that for every event there must 
be a cause, the question next arises, How far does it legitimately 
carry us ? The notion that the principle of causality can only be 
abstractly applied, has led some to argue that it can only result in 
an eternal succession of causes and effects. We have, then, to ask 
the question, What can be evolved from the idea of cause as it exists 
in our own minds ? Does this idea demand finality, or is it satisfied 
with an endless series ? In other words, does the same necessity of 
thought, which requires us to believe in cause at all, require us 
equally to believe in £i first cause ? The objector may urge, 'I hold 
to causation, but why must I believe in a first cause ? What greater 
difficulties are there in an infinite succession of causes than in an 
original and self-existent cause ? Both are absolutely incompre- 
hensible ; both raise difficulties which I cannot solve. But why 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. I99 

compel me to choose one of these dilemmas rather than the other?' 
The objection, at first sight, seems plausible, but loses its force 
when we reflect that an infinite series does not make a cause, and 
a cause is precisely what reason here demands. The real alternative 
does not lie between am, infinite series and a first cause, hut between 
accepting a first cause, or rejecting the idea of cause altogether,^* '^ 

In this section, on ** Cause," we have considered :— 

1, Various Senses of the Word ^^ Cause," 

2, Opinions on the Nature of Efficient Cause, 

3, Final Cause, 

d. The Principle of Final Cause. 

5, Distinctions of Teleological Terms, 

6, Conditions Implied in Final Cause, 

7, The Ultimate Cause, 

References : (1) Hume's Works, pp. 87, 89. (2) Mill's System 
of Logic, p. 245. (3) Id., p. 241. (4) Kant's Critique of Pure 
Reason (Miiller's Translation), Vol. I., p. 472. (5) Hamilton's 
Metaphysics, p. 689. (6) Bowne's Introduction to Psychological 
Theory, pp. 169, 170. (7) Haeckel's History of Creation (Lan- 
kester's Translation), Vol. I., p. 253. (8) Id., p. 17. (9) Spencer's 
First Principles, p. 84. (10) Spencer's Biology, Vol. I., p. 404. 

(11) Janet's Final Causes (Affleck's Translation), pp. 18, 19. 

(12) Id., p. 42. (13) Id., p. 27. (14) Quoted by Janet, Id,, p. 48. 
(15) Diman's The Theistic Argument, pp. 84, 85. 



200 FSYGEOLOGY. 

SECTIOH III* 

SPACE. 

1. Relations of Co-existing Bodies* 

Every finite being has position, or is somewhere. Posi- 
tion, considered apart from the properties of matter, is a 
point, having location but not dimensions. Position, 
however, is a relation between bodies, determined by 
direction. This is indicated by a line connecting the 
points of position. A line possesses length but not 
breadth or thickness. Since a line between two points 
may be divided into parts, bodies are separated by dis- 
tance, which is represented by the number of lines of a 
certain standard length, or unit of measurement, con- 
tained in the line drawn between the bodies. Lines may 
be so combined as to form surfaces, which have length 
and breadth but not thickness. Surfaces may be so com- 
bined as to form solids, which have position, length, 
breadth and thickness combined, that is, magnitude. All 
material forms of being have magnitude. Bodies co-exist 
in the relations of position, direction, distance and mag- 
nitude. Bodies may be conceived as not existing, but if 
they exist they must exist in these relations. They are 
necessary conditions of material existence. They are 
grouped together under the name Space. 

**The first condition of spatial experience seems to lie in the 
extensity of sensation. This much we may allow is original ; for 
the longer we reflect the more clearly we see that no combination or 
association of sensations varying only in intensity and quality, not 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE, 201 

even if motor presentations were added, will account for the space- 
element in our perceptions. A series of touches a, b, c, d, may be 
combined with a series of movements mj, m^, m^, m^; both series 
may be reversed ; and finally the touches may be produced simul- 
taneously. In this way we can attain the knowledge of the co-exist- 
ence of objects that have a certain quasi-distance between them, and 
such experience is an important element in our perception of space ; 
but it is not the whole of it. For, as has been already remarked by 
critics of the associationist psychology, we have an experience very 
similar to this in singing and hearing the musical notes of the chro- 
matic scale. The most elaborate attempt to get exteneity out of suc- 
cession and co-existence is that of Herbert Spencer. He has done, 
perhaps, all that can be done, and only to make it the more plain 
that the entire procedure is a Tiysteron-proteron. We do not first 
experience a succession of touches or of retinal excitations by means 
of movements, and then, when these impressions are simultaneously 
presented, regard them as extensive, because they are associated 
with or symbolize the original series of movements; but, before and 
apart from the movement altogether, we experience that massiveness 
or extensity of impressions in which movements enable us to find 
positions, and also to measure." ^ Such a primary knowledge of 
space-filling sensation may be called intuitive. It does not include 
a definite knowledge of space-relations, however. These are ac- 
quired by analyzing the extensity presented to consciousness by 
each and all of the senses, but preeminently by touch. As was 
stated on page 51, "extension, or space-occupancy, seems to be a 
datum in every actual experience of Sense-perception." 



2. Space, Extension, and Immensity Distinguished. 

Space, extension, and immensity should be discriminated 
as follows : 

(1) Space is a relation of co-existence between material 
bodies. 

(2) Extension is the attribute of continuity in matter. 

(3) Immensity is the attribute of immeasurability in 
Infinite Being. 



202 PSYCHOLOGY. 

" When it is said that we cannot in thought reach the limits of 
space, the reference is clearly to an effort of the Imagination in 
stretching out one beyond the other a succession of marks symbolic 
of limitation, such as imaginary pillars, or constantly enlarging cir- 
cumferences of circles. In such an effort of the Imagination we are 
not dealing with space at all, since space has no application [except 
ideally] to our mental energies. . . . The attempt to advance the 
pillars still farther onward, or to enlarge the circles, is purely an 
effort of Imagination working with the symbols of external realities, 
and nothing more. In prosecuting the effort there is progression in 
time, or the succession in mental states, but there is positively no 
progression whatever in space." ^ We cannot, therefore, speak of 
space as infinite, except in an ideal sense. If we let Imagination 
wander off in any direction, there is nothing to hinder its going on 
as long as we have the strength to keep up this imaginary motion. 
The process is, in this sense, endless. Real space is both actually 
and ideally immeasurable. No telescope has penetrated to the ut- 
most bounds of the actual universe of matter. However extended 
the universe may be, there must be space outside. If, however, we 
pause to ask. What is this space outside ? the only answer is nothing^ 
emptiness, pure vacuity, and yet sustaining certain relations of posi- 
tion, direction and distance to other localities. But suppose the 
whole universe of matter destroyed, what positions, directions and 
distances would remain? An infinite number of possible but no 
actual ones. But we continue to think of space-relations when the 
universe is abolished, we think of the place where it was ! We 
learn from this that the idea of space is a structural principle of 
thought. 

3. 'Space a Relation, not a Substance or an At- 
tribute. 

We have distinguished space as a relation of co-exist- 
ence. It has often been treated as an entity and as an 
attribute of Being. If it be anything at all, and not a 
mere nothing, it is either a substance, an attribute of a 
substance, or a relation. Let us examine these three sup- 
positions : 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 203 

(1) Space is not a substance. — This is evident from its 
not possessing any attributes. It has none of the positive 
qualities of Being. It is described negatively, except 
when considered as a relation between real beings. Ke- 
move from a given position the substance that occupies it, 
and space remains simply as a relation between the sur- 
rounding bodies. 

(2) Space is not an attribute of a substance. — This is 
evident from its not being removed when a substance is 
taken away. The extension of a body, that is, its conti- 
nuity, is an attribute, but it goes with the body when it is 
removed. Space remains behind to show the relations in 
which the body existed. 

(3) Space is a relation of co-existence between material 
bodies. — Between separated bodies, that is, between bodies 
having any '^ space ^^ between them, there is a relation of 
position, a relation of direction, and a relation of distance, 
— and there is nothing more. Space is these relations ; 
or, more generally, the relation of co-existence. 

It would be idle to attempt to trace the vagaries of the philosoph- 
ical mind in relation to the nature of space. Its negative character 
has permitted thinkers to deal with " space" with the same freedom 
that Hegel employed in dealing with the *' idea, "that is, to take 
almost any liberties that fancy might suggest ! Truth is so much 
more important than error that a passage like the following, by 
Calderwood, is of more value than whole chapters ^ like some that 
might be readily referred to in treatises on Psychology and Philoso- 
phy: ''What we have been accustomed to denominate Space is the 
recognized relation of extended objects, and as it applies exclusively 
to Avhat is extended, it has no application whatever to mind and its 
operations. If we admit of the distinction between empty space and 
occupied space, what is called empty space is the relative position of 
two bodies, or the distance which separates them, and is capable of 
being measured by the same standard as the extended surface of the 



204 PSYCHOLOGY, 

objects themselves. If extension be considered as equivalent to 
space, which I am inclined to deny, then it is a perceived quality of 
objects, and it may be said in a sense capable of vindication, that 
we see space. In this application alone can it be said with apprecia- 
ble meaning that space is an 'extensive quantity.' I conceive, 
however, that the term space is more usually and properly applied 
to what has been designated empty space, in contrast to extended 
surface. And such empty space is nothing more than the relative 
distance of extended objects from each other, measured on a standard 
similar to that which applies to the bodies themselves. In this way 
it is equally accurate to say that there is a certain specified distance 
between the bodies, and that there is nothing between them, because 
space is nothing but their relation to each other."* 



4. The Objectivity of Space. 

Kant has treated space as a mere internal form of the 
mind, rather than as an objective and real relation of 
external phenomena. In opposition to this, we may say 
that the objectivity of space rests upon the same founda- 
tion as the objectivity of matter ; for the relations of a 
thing must be where the thing itself is. The doctrine of 
Eelationism is opposed to the whole Kantian scheme of 
Subjectivism. Space is both a constitutive relation of 
bodies and a regulative law of mind, not a mere category 
of the mind itself. 

Kant says ; "Space is nothing but the form of the phenomena of 
all external senses ; it is a subjective condition of our sensibility, 
without which no external intuition is possible for us. If, then, we 
consider that the receptivity of the subject, its capacity of being af- 
fected by objects, must necessarily precede all intuition of objects, 
we shall understand how the form of all phenomena may be 
given before all real perceptions, may be, in fact, a priori in the 
soul, and may, as a pure intuition, by which all objectively must be 
determined, contain, prior to all experience, principles regulating 
their relations. It is, therefore, from the human standpoint only 



CONSTITUTIVE KNO'WLElJaS. ^05 

that we can speak of space, extended objects, etc. If we drop the 
subjective condition under which alone we can gain external intui- 
tion, according as we ourselves may be affected by objects, the repre- 
sentation of space means nothing." ^ It is "from the human stand- 
point only" that we can speak of anything. Of course "space 
means nothing " to us, except as it is known by us ! Here is a root 
of skepticism that should be pulled up. If we must always think of 
things as in space, it is because they are in space. So far as we have 
any knowledge, or suspicion, on the subject, things are in space from 
a "canine" or "feline" standpoint quite as much as from a "hu- 
man" standpoint. Kant's " only," as here employed, is either mean- 
ingless or else it is a great leap in the dark. If the town in which 
I live is outside of me, the space in which it stands is also outside 
of me, not only as a necessity of my thinking, but as a necessity of 
its own existence. 



, 5. Keal and Ideal Space, 

The truth in Kant's doctrine is, that space is not onl^ 
objective and real, but also subjective and ideal. These 
two are not the same. The houses of a town exist in real 
space. My representative ideas of those houses are dis- 
posed in my consciousness in ideal space. Eeal space is 
the relation between real bodies. Ideal space is the rela- 
tion between subjective ideas of bodies. All the products 
of Imagination are arranged in space. Vast cathedrals, 
whole cities, the entire solar system, as apprehended by 
the mind, are thus represented in ideal space, in con- 
sciousness. In the flight of Imagination from the earth 
to the most distant star, the conscious subject does not 
leave the narrow boundaries of a few inches, — ^the dimen- 
sions of his cranium ! 

"Animals," says Spencer, "having great locomotive powers are 
not likely to have the same conceptions of given spaces as animals 
whose locomotive powers are very small. To a creature so con- 



206 PSYCMOLO&T. 

structed that its experiences of the larger spaces around have beeil 
gained by long and quick bounds, distances can scarcely present the 
aspects they do to a creature which traverses them by slow and many 
steps. The dimensions of our bodies and the spaces moved through 
by our limbs, serve us as standards of comparison with environing 
dimensions; and conceptions of smallness or largeness result, ac- 
cording as these environing dimensions are much less or much 
greater than the organic dimensions. Hence, the consciousness of a 
given relation of two positions in space, must vary quantitatively 
with bodily bulk. Clearly, a mouse, which has to run many times 
its own length to traverse the space which a man traverses at a 
stride, cannot have the same conception of Ihis space as a man. 
Quantitative changes in these compound relations of co-existence are 
traceable by each person in his own mental history, from childhood 
to maturity. Distances which seemed great to the boy seem moder- 
ate to the man ; and buildings once thought imposing in height and 
mass, dwindle into insignificance. The physiological state of the 
organism also modifies quantitatively this form of -consciousness to 
a considerable extent. De Quincey, describing some of his opium 
dreams, says that * buildings and landscapes were exhibited in pro- 
portions so vast as the bodily eye is not fitted to receive. Space 
swelled, and was amplified to an extent of unutterable infinity.' It 
is not an uncommon thing with nervous subjects to have illusive 
perceptions in which the body seems enormously extended; even to 
the covering an acre of ground." ' 

In this section, on " Space," we have considered :— 

1, Relations of Co-existing Bodies, 

2, Space, Extension and Immensity Distinguished, 

3, Space a Melation, not a Substance or an Attri- 
bute, 

4, TJie Objectivity of Space, 

5, Meal and Ideal Space, 

References : (1) James Ward's Psychology (Encyclopaedia Britan- 
nica XX.), p. 53. (2) Calderwood's Philosophy of the Infinite, pp. 
333, 334. (3) For examination of writers on Space and references, 
see Cocker's Theistic Conception of the Worlds pp. 68, 75. (4) Cal- 



COJStSTITUTIVI! KNOWLEmJE. 'M 

derwood's Philosophy of the Infinite, pp. 331, 332. (5) Kant's 
Critique of Pure Reason (Max Miiller's Translation), II., pp. 23, 24. 
(6) Spencer's Principles of Psychology, Part II., Chapter III. 



SEGTIOIT lY* 

TIME. 

1. Belations of Successive Phenomena* 

Every event begins at some instant. It constitutes one 
of a series, and appears in an order of succession. Suc- 
cession involves the relation of antecedent and conse- 
quent, that is, events are distinguished as lefore and 
after, A single instant gives us one^ or a unit. By the 
addition of units we obtain a numerical quantity. There 
are concurrent successions of events, the successive in- 
stants of which may be numbered. Taking some one of 
the units as a standard, these quantities may be measured 
by the number of times the standard is contained in the 
quantities. An event beginning at some instant may also 
end at some instant. Its continuance from its beginning 
to its end is called its duration. All events have dura- 
tion. As related to one another, they exist in the rela- 
tion of antecedent and consequent, unless they are con- 
temporary. Events may be thought of as never occurring, 
but if they occur they occur in these relations. These are 
the necessary conditions of the occurrence of events. They 
are grouped together under the name Time. 

The experience of succession requires as its condition the perma- 
nence of the ic-nowing self during the period of the experience of 



208 PSTCSOLoaY. 

such succession. Here, as everywhere, we see how inadequate is the 
theory of self which resolves it into a mere flow and succession of 
sensations. That which compares the past and the present must 
itself have duration as the condition of such relating activity. This 
is so obvious that it is difficult to see how any one could ever have 
overlooked it. But the power to know is quite as essential to this 
activity as duration of being. Hence the futility of every attempt 
to derive the knowing power from the series of sensations which 
requires it as the necessary precondition of their being known. 

2. Time, Duration and Eternity Distinguished. 

Time, duration and eternity should be distinguished as 
follows : 

(1) Time is a relation of succession between events or 
phenomena. 

(2) Duration is the attribute of continuance in events 
or phenomena. 

(3) Eternity is the attribute of unlimited duration in 
Infinite and Absolute Being. 

3. Time a Relation, not a Substance or an Attri- 
bute. 

Like space, time has often been treated as if it were a 
substance or an attribute. Examination will show that 
it is neither, but simply a relation. 

(1) Time is not a substance. — It possesses no attributes. 
Except as a relation between phenomena, there is nothing 
by which it may be distinguished. 

(2) Time is not an attribute of a substance.— Substances 
have being during changes which occur in time, but time 
is not a quality that may be attributed to any substance. 
Continuance is an attribute of substance as it is of phe- 
nomena, but this is duration. 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 209 

(3) Time is a relation. — What we call an ''hour" is 
simply the twenty-fourth part of a day, or period during 
which the earth revolves on its axis. It notes a series of 
changes, and is wholly meaningless except as we imagine 
change. It is the relation of succession between these 
changes. 

4. The Objectivity of Time. 

Kant has denied the objectivity of time, in the same 
manner and on the same ground as the objectivity of 
space. Can we convince ourselves that time-relations did 
not really subsist between the geological epochs, and that 
time applies to them only in our own minds ? If not, we 
shall be obliged to dissent from this form of Subjectivism 
also and accept the objectivity of time. 

Kant says : " Time is simply a subjective condition of our (human) 
intuition (which is always sensuous, that is, so far as we are affected 
by objects), but by itself, apart from the subject, nothing."* 

5. Real and Ideal Time. 

Time, like space, is both real and ideal. All our 
products of Imagination are grouped in the relation of 
time. It is possible for us to imagine geological epochs 
in a few moments of time. This shows that time is a 
mere relation that may exist between purely imaginary 
phenomena as well as between actual events. ''The 
flight of tinie," as we call it, depends upon subjective 
conditions. Eeal time, as measured by the sun or by 
clocks and watches, may be very "long," that is, include 
a great many successive motions, while ideal time cover- 
ing the same interval may be very "short," or vice versa. 



210 PSYGHOLOaY, 

This is the truth expressed in the lines of Bailey's **Festtis"j 

" We live in deeds, not years ; in thoughts, not breaths ; 
In feelings, not in figures on a dial. 
We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives 
Who thinks most— feels the noblest— acts the best." 

" Subjective rhythms, partly of the vital functions and partly of the 
locomotive functions, mark out consciousness into tolerably regular 
intervals ; thus yielding measures between states of consciousness 
otherwise caused — standards of duration. Hence a small creature, 
in which these rhythms are very rapid, must have a consciousness of 
a given objective interval widely unlike the consciousness of it pos- 
sessed by a large animal, whose rhythms are relatively very slow. A 
gnat's wings make ten or fifteen thousand strokes per second. Each 
stroke implies a separate nervous action. Each such nervous action, 
or change in a nervous centre, is probably as appreciable by the gnat 
as is a quick movement of the arm by a man. And if this, or any- 
thing like this, is the fact, then the time occupied by a given external 
change, measured by many movements in the one case, must seem 
much longer than it seems in the other case, when measured by a 
single movement. . . . Whatever exalts the vital activities and so 
makes mental impressions stronger, exaggerates the conceptions of 
durations. This is notably the case in persons under the influence 
of opium. Detailing his experiences of this influence, De Quincey 
says that he sometimes seemed * to have lived 70 or 100 years in one 
night ; ' nay, to have had ' feelings representative of a millennium 
passed in that time, or, however, of a duration far beyond the limits 
of any human experience.' , . . Intervals of time, like intervals of 
space, become apparently small in proportion to their remoteness. 
An evening spent at a friend's house, seems of considerable length 
when looked back upon at the moment of departure. When recalled 
a week after, it subtends by no means so great an angle in conscious- 
ness; and the angle it subtends in consciousness when we are re- 
minded of it a year after, is very small." ^ 

6. The Kelation of Space and Time to each other. 

Space is a relation of co-existence and time is a relation 
of succession. The same realities exist in both relations. 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 211 

Thus, the earth co-exists with the other bodies in the solar 
system and constantly changes its relation of co-existence 
by its motions. Motion involves the relations of both 
space and time. The earth rotates on its axis 365 times 
while it is making one revolution round the sun. Thus 
space is the measure of time, and time is the measure of, 
space. Given the time and the velocity, we can calculate 
the distance ; or given the distance and the velocity, we 
can calculate the time. Thus all our measures of time 
are motions in space, the revolution of the earth round 
the sun making a '^^year," the rotation of the earth on its 
axis making a "^ day,^' and a certain number of oscillations 
of a pendulum making an '' hour," Hence the adjectives 
applied to space come to be applied also to time, and we 
speak of a *^' long " time and a '''short " time. We usually 
mean by these terms to indicate duration ; but duration 
is measured by time, that is, by the number of successive 
phenomena in something moving. For example, one says 
he is twenty years old, meaning that his duration as a liv- 
ing being has been twenty years of time, or twenty revolu- 
tions of the earth round the sun. 

*' Let us suppose, that from some given instant, for example from 
to-day, the course of the stars and of our earth becomes twice as 
rapid as before, and that the year passes by in six months, each 
season in six weeks and each day in twelve hours ; that the period 
of the life of man is in like manner reduced to one half of its present 
duration, so that, speaking in general terms, the longest human life, 
instead of eighty years, lasts for forty, each of which contains as 
many of the new days of twelve hours as the former years did, when 
the days were twenty-four hours long ; the drawing of our breath and 
the stroke of the pulse would proceed with double their usual rapidity, 
and our new period of life would appear to us of the normal length. 
The hands of the clock would no longer make the circuit in one hour 
and in twelve, but the long hand in thirty minutes, the short one in 



212 PSYCHOLOGY. 

six hours. The development of plants and animals would take place 
with double their usual speed ; and the wind and the lightning would 
consume, in their rapid course, but one half of their present time. 

*' With these suppositions, I ask, in what way should we be af- 
fected by the change ? The answer to this question is. We should 
be cognizant of no change. We should. even consider one who sup- 
posed or who attempted to point out that such a change had taken 
place was mad, or we should look upon him as an enthusiast. We 
should have no possible ground to consider that any other condition 
had existed. Now, as we can determine the lapse of any period of 
time only by comparison, or by measuring it with some other period, 
and as every division of time which we use in our comparison or in 
our measurements has been lessened by one half its duration, the 
original proportion would still be unchanged. Our forty years 
would pass as the eighty did ; we should perform every thing twice 
as quickly as before ; but as our life, our breath, and our movements 
are proportionally hastened, it would be impossible to measure the 
increased speed, or even to remark it. As far as we could tell, every 
thing had remained precisely as it was before, not comparatively, 
but absolutely, provided we had no standard, external to the accel- 
erated course of events in the world, by which we could perceive the 
changes or measure them. A similar result would follow, if we 
imagined the course of time reduced to the fourth, instead of to the 
half, so that the year would consist of three months. . . . For the 
same reasons, if the period and processes of life and the course of 
events in the world around us, were accelerated a thousand or a 
million times, we should obtain a similar result I " ^ 

In this section, on ** Time,'* we have considered :— 

1, Melations of Successive Phenomena, 

2, Time, Duration and Eternity Distinguished. 

3, Time a Relation, not a Substance or an Attribute. 

4, The Objectivity of Time, 

5, Heal and Ideal Time. 

6, The Relation of Space and Time to each other. 

References : (1) Kant's Critique of Pure Reason (Max Muller's 
Translation), p. 30. (2) Spencer's Principles of Psychology, Part 
II., Chapter III. (3) The Stars and the Earth (anonymous, edited 
by Thomas Hill), pp. 67, 70. 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 



213 



SECTIOIT Y* 

THE DEVELOPMENT OF INTELLECT. 

1. Summary of Results. 

In the preceding pages, we have examined the four 
kinds of knowledge which we possess and the powers and 
processes by which they are obtained. We must not for- 
get, in the multiplicity of details, the essential unity of the 
soul. Intellect is simply one of the three generic modes 
of psychical activity ; Sensibility and Will, which we have 
still to consider, being the other two. While Intellect is 
employed in a variety of modes, each one of which we 
call, for convenience, a "^^ power '^ or a "process '' of Intel- 
lect, it must not be supposed that Intellect is a bundle of 
separate entities, like the organs of the body ; it is rather 
one faculty acting in many ways. Never losing sight of 
these truths, we may, for the purpose of a summary, 
classify the results and processes of Intellect as follows : 

I. Present ative j 1. Self -consciousness. 

Knowledge, by ( 3. Sense-perception. 



Intellect 
obtains : 



II. Eepresentative 
Knowledge, by 



1. Association. 

2. Phantasy. 

3. Memory. 

. 4. Imagination. 



III. 



IV. 



Elaboratiye f ^' Conception. 

Knowledge, by i 2' J^dgn^^^t. 
(^ 3. Reiasoning. 

Constitutive 
Knowledge, by Rational Intuition of 



1. Being. 

2. Cause. 

3. Space. 

4. Time. 



214 PSYCHOLOGY. 



3. The Stages of Knowing. 

It is evident that the order which we have followed in 
our examination is also the order in which the different 
processes of knowing become possible. Sense-presenta- 
tion, association of ideas, reproduction of ideas, recogni- 
tion of ideas, recombination of ideas, formation of abstract 
ideas, judgment and reasoning are possible only as each 
preceding stage furnishes the materials for each successive 
process in the development of intellectual activity. It 
may be said that Self-consciousness is not necessary to 
these processes. Whether Self -consciousness is an excep- 
tion or not, depends entirely upon what is involved in it. 
If it is interpreted to mean (1) an abstract idea of self , 
the product of Conception, it is certainly not necessary 
and must be considered as a late product of thought. If, 
however, we mean by it (2) a concrete consciousness of 
having sensations and perceptions and Tcnowing these as 
our own, it seems to be an indispensable condition of all 
continuous mental experience. It is in this latter sense 
that the term ^^ Self -consciousness^' has been employed. 

The use of the pronoun "I" to indicate the conscious self, is a 
comparatively late acquisition in the psychical experience of a child. 
The poet Tennyson has beautifully expressed the truth upon this 
point : 

*' The baby, new to earth and sky, - 
What time his tender palm is pressed 
Against the circle of the breast, 
Has never thought that this is I. ' 

"But as he grows, he gathers much. 
And learns the use of ' I ' and ' me,' 
And finds I am not what I see, 
And other than tte things I touch ; 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 215 

" So rounds he to a separate mind, 

From whence clear memory may begin, 
As thro' the frame that hinds him in, 
His isolation grows defined." 

Long before the pronoun is employed, the child uses his own 
proper name, caught from the lips of others, to designate himself. 
But even long before this, he is conscious of himself as the subject 
of pain and pleasure, sights and sounds. However dilScult it may- 
be to trace and to date the dawn of Self-consciousness, it is certain 
that at the beginning of rational life lies the distinction of subject 
and object. The child who says **I," or who even lisps his own 
name, has accomplished a feat which no lower animal can perform 
at the climax of its development. He has opened his eyes upon the 
rational order that is never apprehended by the brute, howeiver acute 
his senses and however astonishing his instincts. 



3. The Development of Intellect. 

The progressive unfolding of the knowing power is an 
evident development. Its rapidity varies in different per- 
sons and in different races, and in some it is liable to final 
arrest at stages which others pass. The majority of men 
never develop the highest power of analysis and reflec- 
tion. Are we to hold, in the light of these facts of devel- 
opment, that Intellect is gradually evolved from something 
that is not Intellect, or must we consider its growth as the 
progressive manifestation of a peculiar power already latent 
in the soul ? The Sensational School of psychologists 
would derive all the higher powers of Intellect from sensa- 
tion. 1 For them, mind is simply a " series of sensations,'^ 
growing in complexity with the increase of experience. 
Our whole analysis of Intellect has shown the inadequacy 
of this theory. Intellect always accompanies sensation 
and is necessary to the interpretation of it. No conceiv- 
able transformation of meiQ sensation, or association ()i 



216 PSYCHOLOGY. 

sensations, can explain even the simplest processes of 
knowledge. We must assume, at the very beginning, a 
knowing power, or Intellect, capable of distinguishing 
and interpreting sensations, or emergence into rational 
life is impossible. 

The " association of ideas" is mainly relied upon by such writ- 
ers as Mill 2 and Bain,' to explain the evolution of Intellect from 
sensation. There can be no "idea," however, without a knowing 
subject aheady possessing Intellect. Isolated sensations do not con- 
stitute " ideas." Ideas are forms of knowledge in a conscious mind. 
" Association " explains nothing. As we have seen, it requires to be 
explained, and when explained is finally resolved into a habit of the 
soul. Even sensations exist only for a being that knows them. If 
it be said that vibrations in the brain become associated, the whole 
ground is shifted. Such molecular movements are not Intellect and 
no combination of them alone would constitute knowledge. Every 
attempt to derive Intellect from something else, either psychical or 
physical, melts away upon close examination. We can simply assert 
that the conscious subject possesses Intellect, a power of knowing 
which, like every other power, develops with exercise. 

4. The Parallel Development of Intellect and Brain. 

In connection with the fact that Intellect develops, we 
have the kindred fact that Intellect and brain develop 
together. As the brain of a child grows. Intellect in- 
creases ; when the brain is injured or diseased, the func- 
tions of Intellect are impeded ; when health is restored to 
the brain, the vigor of Intellect is regained. These, in a 
general way, are unquestioned facts of observation. But 
the parallelism is not absolute. The development of In- 
tellect does not depend entirely upon the growth of the 
physical organ, the brain, which so largely conditions its 
activity. It has never been shown that the physical quali- 
ties and health of the brain directly produce intellectual 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 217 

power. There is no discovered correlation between the 
vigor of Intellect and any peculiarity in the structure, 
size, weight, or any other definable quality of the brain. 
Nothing improves Intellect but the exercise of Intellect. 

The possessor of a perfectly symmetrical and fully devel- 
oped brain may remain ignorant and stupid, if he does 
not develop his Intellect by voluntary exercise. Some of 
the world^s most vigorous minds, on the other hand, have 
been housed in unsymmetrical and diminutive brains, con- 
stantly filled with physical pain indicative of disease. The 
parallelism, then, is not closer than that between fine 
workmanship and superior tools, — which certainly does 
not prove that the tools do the work. 

Tiedemann, the physiologist, and Hausmann, the mineralogist, 
are examples of very able men with small brains, theirs weighing, 
respectively, 44 and 43 ounces. In savages of the quarternary age, 
who fought the mammoth and the cave-bear with rude stone wea- 
pons, the size of the brain-case was above that of the average modern 
man.^ Such considerations have led the French anthropologist, Paul 
Broca, the most erudite of craniologists, to conclude that "no weU- 
instrueted man would think of ever estimating the intelligence by 
measuring the encephalon." ^ The best established correlation be- 
tween the brain and other elements in human life, is between its size 
and complexity and the complexity of the muscular system.® The 
heaviest human brain yet on record, according to Bastian, was that 
of a Sussex bricklayer who could neither read nor write. His brain 
weighed 67 ounces. This is two and a half ounces heavier than 
Cuvier's, which weighed 64.5 ; and fourteen and a half ounces 
heavier than that of Daniel Webster, which was considered excep- 
tionally large. Bastian concludes that it "seems perfectly plain 
from the facts recorded that there is no necessary or invariable rela- 
tion between the degree of intelligence of human beings and the mere 
size or weight of their brains." "^ Those who desire to find in brain- 
growth some explanation of intellectual development, usually affirm 
that this development depends on "quahty." It has not, however, 



218 PSYCHOLOGY, 

yet been demonstrated by anatomical or physiological science pre- 
cisely what this vague word ''quality" is meant to signify. It has 
not been shown that Intellect is associated in any absolute or decisive 
manner with any special configuration, disposition of internal con- 
stituents, or proportion of chemical elements in the brain. This is 
conceded by all reputable anatomists and physiologists. It is evi- 
dent, therefore, that all generalizations on this topic and all confi- 
dent emphasis on the word "quality," without specific definition, 
are either dogmatism or speculation, not science. 

! 
i 

5, The Inheritance of Intellect, 

Extended observation has shown that intellectual power 
is capable of transmission by inheritance.® Of this fact 
there can be no longer any doubt. There are, it is true, 
important exceptions, and much also must be ascribed to 
favorable conditions of growth in childhood and youth, 
such as domestic and educational influences. Mere asso- 
ciation with intellectual companions is an incalculable 
advantage, and tliis the children of intellectual parents 
usually have. But, after all reductions are made, the fact 
still remains that a high degree of intellectual power is 
directly inherited. Spencer and others have employed 
this fact in explaining the evolution of mind from lower 
to higher forms. This method of treatment simply pushes 
back the problem but does not solve it. It does not ex- 
plain the origin of Intellect, though it may account, in 
some measure, for its progress. What cannot happen in 
the history of an individual, supposing an indefinite life- 
time, cannot happen in the history of the race. Ten 
thousand years of time would not assist us in deriving 
Intellect from mere sensation. The case is rendered more 
difficult in the life of the race, for it cannot be claimed 
that each generation inherits all the attainments of all its 



CONSTITUTIVE KNOWLEDGE. 219 

ancestors. As we have seen (page 44), each child has to 
learn everything from the beginning. He may, indeed, 
inherit a superior power of learning, but indefinite time 
does not assist in explaining the origin of this power. 

Locke maintained that, at birth, every mind is like a sheet of 
blank paper, or a tabula rasa, — i. e., a waxen tablet from which all 
previous marks have been erased. This doctrine was advanced in 
opposition to that of ''innate ideas," held and advocated by Des- 
cartes. Leibnitz tried to answer Locke and to prove that certain 
powers are inherent in the mind itself. While Locke and his fol- 
lowers held that " There is nothing in the Intellect that has not pre- 
viously been in the senses," Leibnitz and his disciples maintained 
that, " There is nothing in the Intellect which has not previously 
been in the senses, except Intellect itself. ^^ The notion that children 
are born with innate ideas, as distinguished from certain necessary 
principles in the constitution of the mind, has been quite generally 
abandoned. A French follower of Locke, Etienne Bonnot de Con- 
dillao (1715-1780), maintained that " ideas " are simply ** transformed 
sensations," and that each individual, as Locke held, develops his 
whole intellectual nature from his sensational experience. This 
doctrine has widely prevailed in English thought on the subject 
also, but the rise of the modern theory of Evolution has revived the 
old doctrine of "innate ideas;" not in the ancient form, however, 
but in the form of "inherited tendencies." Spencer says: "If, 
at birth, there exists nothing but a passive receptivity of impres- 
sions, why is not a horse as educable as a man ? Should it be said 
that language makes the difference, then why do not the cat and the 
dog, reared in the same household, arrive at equal degrees and kinds 
of intelligence ? " He then goes on to point out the force of Leib- 
nitz's criticisms on Locke. He proceeds to maintain that what we 
call ''Reason" is organized in the brain by a gradual process of 
adjustment to external relations, which ' ' adjustment " is trans- 
mitted and augmented through successive generations. He con- 
cludes that, universal perceptions " being the constant and infinitely 
repeated elements of thought, they must become the automatic ele- 
ments of thought — the elements of thought which it is impossible to 
get rid of— the ' forms of intuition,' " ? The difftgulty in the way of 



220 PSYCHOLOGY. 

• 
this ingenious doctrine is, that Intellect is the pre-condition of all 
rational experience. In order that our ancestors should be able to 
have rational experience whose results they could transmit, they 
must first have possessed Reason. The inferior animals transmit 
no such ' * intuitions, " because they do not possess them. 

In this section, on ** The Development of Intellect," 
we have considered:— 

1, Summary of Hesults. 

2, The Stages of Knowing, 

3, The Developinent of Intellect. 

4, The Parallel Development of Intellect and 
Brain, 

5, The Inheritance of Intellect. 

References : (1) See the exhaustive review of this attempt, with 
full and explicit references, in Calderwood's Handbook of Moral 
Philosophy, pp. 98, 122. (2) See the Notes of J. S. Mill in James 
Mill's Analysis of the Human Mind, Chapter III. (3) See Bain's 
Notes to the last-named work also and his whole treatment of Intel- 
lect in The Senses and the Intellect. (4) Quatref ages' The Human 
Species, p. 312. (5) Id., p. 410. (6) Calderwood's Relations of 
Mind and Brain, p. 206. (7) Bastian's The Brain as an Organ of 
Mind, pp. 368, 369. (8) See Galton's Hereditary Genius and Ribot's 
Heredity. (9) Spencer's Principles of Psychology, I., Part IV., 
Chapter VII. 



PART ll-SENSIBILITY. 



1. Definition of Sensibility. 

Sensibility is the faculty of feeling, or of experiencing 
pleasure and pain. The word is derived from the Latin 
sensihilitas, which conveys the idea of ability to feel. It 
is to be distinguished from Intellect, the faculty of know- 
ing, and "Will, the faculty of directing. 

Numerous efforts have been made to mark the distinction be- 
tween knowledge and feeling. Among the most ingenious of these 
is the following discrimination offered by Dewey; " Feeling is the 
subjective side of consciousness, knowledge its objective side. Will 
is the relation between the subjective and the objective. Every con- 
crete consciousness is this connection between the individual as sub- 
jective and the universe as objective. Suppose the consciousness to 
be that arising from a cut of a finger. The pain is purely sub- 
jective ; it belongs to the self pained, and can be shared by no other. 
The cut is an objective fact; something which may be present to the 
senses of all and apprehended by their intelligences. It is one object 
amid the world of objects. Or, let the consciousness be that of the 
death of a friend. This has one side which connects it uniquely 
with the individual ; it has a certain value for him as a person, with- 
out any reference to its bearings as an event which has happened 
objectively. It is subjective feeling. But it is also an event which 
has happened in the sphere of objects; something present in the 
same way to all. It is objective ; material of information. Will 
always serves to connect the subjective and objective sides, just as 
it connects the individual and the universal."^ These statements 
may assist us in forming a right judgment concerning the nature of 
feeling, but they tend to confuse our ideas concerning the nature of 
knowledge. Knowledge may be of the objective, but it is not itself 



^2^ PSYCHOLOGY, 

objective. It is always relative to the individual mind which knows. 
If it is possible to all who are endowed with the necessary powers, 
so also is feeling. If we regard the experience of both knowledge 
and feeling, both are subjective. If we regard the causes of both 
knowledge and feeling, these are equally objective. ''Conscious- 
ness" cannot be regarded as having two "sides," a " subjective " 
and an "objective" side. The distinction does not seem to hold 
good and to mark off the peculiar quality of feeling from the pe- 
culiar quality of knowledge. These qualities are inexplicable in any 
terms other than themselves. Whoever can know and feel, knows 
that knowledge and feeling are different, as he knows that red and 
blue are different, but the expressions "objective " and " subjective " 
do not mark this difference. 



2. DiflBLculties in Treating the Phenomena of 
Sensibility. 

As the phenomena of Intellect are forms of knowledge, 
so the phenomena of Sensibility are forms of feeling. 
Feeling is not, like knowledge, a psychical activity, but 
an accompaniment of activity. Knowledge can be repro- 
duced by the soul ; feeling cannot be reproduced directly, 
but only as an accompaniment. Hence, there are certain 
special difficulties in the treatment of feeling. 

(1) The phenomena of Sensibility exist only under cer- 
tain conditions of production. — States of feeling cannot be 
produced at will. Having been produced, they cannot be 
recalled in their completeness. We have already seen why 
pains cannot be reproduced (page 98). Eepresentative 
ideas of feelings are not, properly speaking, feelings. 
Feelings exist, therefore, only when their special causes 
are acting. This renders it difficult to compare and 
study them. 

(2) They are exceedingly evanescent. — As the causes of 
feeling are constantly changing, the feelings change. No 



state of feeling catt persist uninterruptedly for a long 
time* There ia perpetual alternation of different feel- 
ings. Hence^ feeling has often been compared to a 
'^ stream/^ We speak of *^^ trains of ideas/' but of 
'"^ currents of feeling." The reason is obvious. Ideas 
persist and have distinct and permanent form in the 
mind for a considerable time. Feelings have a fluidity 
that involves constant change. 

(3) The states readily blend together and form com- 
pounds. — We probably never have exactly the same com- 
bination of feelings in any two hours of life. The exter- 
nal' or the internal factor is slightly modified. It is 
difficult to analyze any given state into its constituents, 
because we are ever exposed to the danger of treating a 
compound state as if it were simple. For this reason the 
names which we apply to the different forms of feeling do 
not have exactly the same meaning to different persons. 
Such words as *^ appetite," "joy," "sorrow" and "love" 
signify to each person just what his experience has af- 
forded him, and this is exceedingly variable. 

For these reasons, the feelings have not yet received, 
and probably never will receive, the same definite and sat- 
isfactory scientific treatment as the forms of knowledge. 

G. E. Lessing (1729-1781), the illustrious German critic, has well 
stated the difficulties that he in the way of a scientific treatment of 
the feelings. He .says : " Nothing is more deceitful than general 
laws for our feelings. Their tissue is so fine and complicated that 
the most cautious speculation can scarcely seize upon any single 
thread and follow it through all its entanglements ; and if we could 
do this, what should we gain ? There is in nature scarcely any one 
unmixed feeling; with every individual one a thousand others spring 
up at the same time, the least of which alters entirely the ground of 
the feeling, so that exceptions grow upon exceptions, which end in 



224: PSTCMOLOGY. 

confining the presumed general principle to the experience of a few 
particular instances."^ 



3. A Science of Sensibility Possible. 

If science dealt principally with differences, we could 
never hope for a science of Sensibility, but it deals more 
largely with resemblances than with differences. There 
is enough in the phenomena of Sensibility that is common 
to all human souls, to permit of the scientific discussion 
of the subject. We can describe the modes of feeling, 
class them into certain general groups, explain the condi- 
tions under which they are experienced, and discover the 
principal laws of their appearance and modification. The 
difficulties of the subject have, however, thus far pre- 
vented the satisfactory accomplishment of these results, 
and at the present time the feelings present the least 
developed department of Psychology. 

Much attention has recently been devoted to this long-neglected 
province of the soul. Much speculation has originated in Germany 
on the subject of "Esthetics," mainly directed toward the creation 
of a philosophical theory of the fine arts; but even in Germany, 
where this branch of study has received most attention, no very sat- 
isfactory scientific investigation of the feelings in the broader sense 
has yet been accomplished. The Ethical Sentiments have received 
a certain amount of study, but even here, although this field is so 
closely connected with the conduct of life, the scientific results have 
been largely colored by philosophical assumptions of various kinds 
and much impeded by a want of co-ordination with other forms of 
feeling. In what is truly valuable our own literature compares fa- 
vorably with that of other countries, and in recent additions displays 
a remarkable activity in the cultivation of this field. Sir Charles 
Bdl (1774-1842), an English surgeon and anatomist, led the way in 
the scientific study of the Emotions in his " Anatomy and Philoso- 
phy of Expression." Charles Darwin (1809-1882), the distinguished 



naturalist, continued in the same line in his "Expression of the 
Emotions in Man and Animals." Herbert Spencer has given much 
attention to the feelings. Alexander Bain has treated the subject 
extensively and originally in his book on " The Emotions and the 
Will." Charles Grant Allen (184&- ), a Canadian naturalist and 
writer resident in England, has produced a work on "Physiological 
-Esthetics." James McCosh has written a volume on "The Emo- 
tions." Nearly all the recent text-books, on Psychology include 
some attempt to discuss the subject of Sensibility, which was wholly 
neglected in most of the earlier treatises intended for use in schools. 
A great number of articles presenting observations and hypotheses 
upon the subject may be found scattered through the leading peri- 
odicals. All these indications point to a growing interest in this 
neglected department and give ground for hoping that it will not 
long remain the chaos which it has been. 

4. Characteristics of Sensibility. 

States of Sensibility, or feelings, are either painful or 
pleasurable. It is impossible to define pain and pleasure 
except by negation and opposition. They are ultimate 
facts of experience which can be resolved into nothing 
simpler, and are known to every human being as real dis- 
tinctions. Every one knows when he suffers pain or en- 
joys pleasure, but no one can say what pain and pleasure 
are. We can, however, ascertain under what conditions 
they arise in consciousness, and so discover what is essen- 
tial to their production. 

Bain holds that, besides painful and pleasurable qualities, a feel- 
ing may have the quality of Indifference. He says : " A state of 
feeling may have considerable intensity and yet be neutral. Sur- 
prise is a familiar instance. Some surprises give us delight, others 
cause suffering, but many do neither ; yet in all cases we are emo- 
tionally moved." 3 It is difficult to detect this alleged "indiffer- 
ence" in feeling. There may be a condition of "surprise," that is, 
a perception of something unexpected, without either pleasure or 



226 PSTCE0L0G7. 

pain and also without feeling of any kind. If there is feeling, in 
any definite and appreciable sense, it must be either agreeable, that 
is pleasurable, or disagreeable, that is painful, in some degree, or it 
would not be appreciated as "feeling." There is an intellectual as 
well as an emotional "surprise," and it seems as if this distinction 
had been overlooked. Sully and many others reject Bain's idea of 
an "indifferent " feeling. He says: "By feeling is meant any state 
of consciousness which is pleasurable or painful. The feelings are 
pleasures and pains of all sorts, agreeable and disagreeable states of 
mind. Every feeling is either pleasurable or painful, agreeable or 
disagreeable, in some degree." In commenting on Bain's doctrine, 
he says: " It may be questioned whether any feeling as such can be 
indifferent."* A sense-impression, however, maybe "indifferent," 
that is, without the quality of feeling, as when we are conscious of 
touching, without experiencing either pleasure or pain. 

5. The Quality and Quantity of Feelings. 

The broadest qualitative distinction of feelings is into 
pleasures and pains. Both, pleasures and pains are of dif- 
ferent qualities, varying according to the organ or faculty 
by which they are apprehended and the causes from which 
they proceed. Eegarded p to quantity, feelings have 
massiveness, or amount, and intensity, or degree. Thus, 
a tooth-ache may be very intense, without being very mas- 
sive, while a pain from indigestion may be massive with- 
out being very intense. Massiveness has relation to the 
area of feeling, intensity to the acuteness of it. 

6. Division of the Subject. 

Various classifications of the modes of Sensibility have 
been offered, many of them wholly arbitrary and at vari- 
ance with the use of language. ^ We shall secure a divi- 
sion at the same time psychologically exact, adapted to 
an orderly discussion, and in harmony with the accepted 



SENSIBILITY. 227 

use of words, if we recognize two main classes of feelings : 
(1) physical feelings, having a definite origin in the bodily 
organism, and capable of reference to the locality where 
they originate, which we shall call Sensations ; and (2) 
psychical feelings, having their origin in the soul itself 
on the presentation of certain ideas, and not capable of 
being located in any part of the organism, which we 
shall call Sentiments. We shall now proceed to con- 
sider separately : 

(1) Sensations; and 
(3) Sentiments. 

References : (1) Dewey's Psychology, p. 23. (2) Lessing's Lao- 
coon (Phillimore's Translation), p. 42. (3) Bain's The Emotions and 
the Will, pp. 14, 15. (4) Sully's Psychology, p. 449. See also Bain's 
defense of his position in Mind, October, 1887, pp. 576, 579. (5) For 
an account of the different modes of classifying the feelings, see 
Bain's The Emotions and the Will, Appendix B. Also Mind, April, 
1884, pp. 325, 348; and October, 1884, pp. 509, 530. 



CHAPTER h 

SENSATIONS. 

CLASSIFICATION OF SENSATIONS. 

Sensations are the feelings which accompany physical 
activity. There are two main classes of sensations, some 
being mere excitations, without involving any tendency 
to do anything ; others being attended with appetency, or a 
tendency to seek some object when excited. The natural 
division is, then, into (1) sensations of Simple Sentience 
(from the Latin sentlre, to feel), or sensations without 
any appetency ; and (2) sensations of Appetite (from the 
Latin ad, to, and petere, to seek), or sensations attended 
with appetency. These two classes will be discussed in 
the following sections. 



SEGTIOIT !♦ 

SIMPLE SENTIENCE. 
Kinds of Simple Sentience, 



In our discussion of Sense-perception, we classified the 
senses as Muscular, Organic and Special (pages 32, 33). 
Our purpose in that examination was to discover the man- 
ner in which sensations furnish materials for knowledge. 



SUJSrSATJOJSrS. 229 

not to compare them as modes of feeling affording pleasure 
and pain. Our present purpose is to consider them as 
feelings, not as materials of knowledge. The same classi- 
fication will, however, serve in both cases. 

(1) Muscular sentience is the feeling that arises from 
the states of 1:he muscles. It is sometimes pleasurable 
and sometimes painful. The normal exercise of the 
muscles produces an agreeable feeling, while disease and 
over-use produce pain. During considerable periods of 
time, the muscles afford no feelings whatever, and we are 
practically unconscious of their existence. 

After rest and nourishment, the muscles become surcharged with 
energy and demand activity. If they do not obtain this, a sense of 
uneasiness follows. If they do obtain it and it is too much pro- 
longed, a different feeling arises, indicating need of repose. These 
two tendencies, to seek activity and to seek repose, according to the 
state of the muscles, are really appetites, not forms of simple sen- 
tience. We shall consider them later on. The simple sensations 
are those forms of feeling which arise when the muscles are in activ- 
ity. They are pleasurable or painful, according to the degree of ex- 
ercise. So long as the vitality is not overdrawn, pleasure accom- 
panies activity, but as soon as the energy is depleted to a certain 
point, — possibly at the point where the repair does not equal the 
waste, — the sensations begin to be painful, and continue to become 
more and more painful until rest is obtained. Any one may try this 
for himself by a simple movement of the arm, which, though pleas- 
urable at first, if continued, becomes painful and finally unendur- 
able. 

(2) Organic sentience arises from the condition of the 
vital organs, such as the heart, the stomach, the lungs, 
etc. In diseased conditions they often force themselves 
upon the attention and completely occupy it. A person 
with a healthy stomach is hardly aware by his feelings 
that he has one, while the dyspeptic hardly realizes that 



230 PSYCHOLOGY. 

lie has any other organ. Pleasure in any high degree is 
not afforded by these organs^ but pain is the sign that 
they are in an abnormal condition. 

Whether or not the organic sensations were provided for by de- 
sign in the constitution of our bodily organism, they certainly serve 
an important purpose. They warn us of disease. The health and 
integrity of these organs are necessary to the proper performance of 
all the bodily functions and ultimately to the continuance of life. 
The fact that pain, not pleasure, is the usual mode of their sentient 
manifestation in consciousness, is evidence of a preserving purpose 
in the provisions made for their existence. Thus regarded, pain is 
a token of benevolence in the plan of a human organism, for it ap- 
pears simply as a signal of warning, and never attends the normal 
condition and exercise of the body. As we shall see in our study of 
the appetites, pleasure is connected with those organic actions which 
are necessary to the preservation of the life of the individual and of 
the species. The mechanical explanation of this adjustment of pain 
and pleasure to destructive and preservative actions breaks down 
completely, and nothing short of a teleological explanation satisfies 
our intelligence. 

(3) Special sentience is that which arises from the spe- 
cial sense-organs, and is the concomitant °of external per- 
ception. As we have seen (page 26), the sensation is in 
an inverse ratio to the perception. There is, however, a 
distinct sensuous pleasure in the perceptive use of the 
senses, apart from the intellectual gratification. Certain 
sounds, colors, forms, and odors are pleasing in a high de- 
gree, without any reference to the knowledge obtained 
from them. A great part of our enjoyment of nature is 
of this simple sensuous kind. The bird-songs, the autum- 
nal leaves, the cloud-castles, and the scents of forest and 
meadow, even when not regarded as elements of that ideal 
beauty which the Intellect only can apprehend, afford us 
a thrilling delight. On the other hand, the senses are 



SENSATIONS. 231 

pained by sounds, sights, and odors of an opposite kind, 
not so agreeable to particularize, but equally well known. 

The advocates of ''PhysiologicalJEsthetics" attempt to explain 
our entire experience of beauty and sublimity in terms of organic 
action. ^As we proceed with our study of Sensibility, we shall see 
many reasons for rejecting these pretentious endeavors, but at this 
point it is desirable to call attention to the inadequacy of any merely 
mechanical or organic action to explain even the simplest of our 
sensations. We have already seen that there is a great interval be- 
tween a sense-impression and any form of sense-knowledge (page 40). 
We have also seen that the simplest perception requires a special 
psychical reaction (page 61). In like manner, the transition from a 
sense-impression to a simple sensation regarded as a form of feeling, 
is a passage from a mode of motion to a mode of consciousness, and 
requires the reaction of Sensibility. Sensations, whether pleasurable 
or painful, are not results generated out of mere motion, but require 
the presence of a recipient endowed with Sensibility. The explana- 
tion of a sensation, then, does not lie in any mode of organic action, 
but in the power of Sensibility possessed by the being who experi- 
ences the sensation. The soul, a being different from " matter in 
motion," is as necessary to the enjoyment of a rose as to the con- 
struction of a cathedral. The enjoyment is the passive reception 
of a passing odor and the construction is an active combination of 
materials in complicated and original forms, but "matter in mo- 
tion " is wholly incapable of both. 



2. Conditions of Simple Sentience. 

There are certain conditions without which sentience 
does not take place. These are both internal and external 
to the nervous system. 

(1) The internal conditions are the health and integrity 
of the sensor nerves. If a nerve be severed, no sentience 
can be produced by the excitation of the area of the body 
thus cut off from communication with the brain. There 
are certain parts of the body that do not give rise to senti- 



232 PSYCHOLOGY. 

ence, because they are not supplied with sensor nerves. 
Thus, the hair and nails are not furnished with nerves, 
and 30 they may be cut off without causing pain. Some 
parts of the brain itself, not being supplied with nerves of 
sense, may be cut out without pain. . 

(2) The external conditions are the application of 
agents adapted to excite the sensor nerves through their 
terminal organs and so to send an impression to the brain, 
where the sentient states are realized in consciousness ; 
and also the mechanical, chemical, and vital changes 
produced in the tissues of the body itself by external 
causes. 

3. Conditions of Pleasurable Sentience. 

All use of the physical organism involves a certain de- 
struction of tissue and thereby necessitates repair to make 
good the waste. The following formula of pleasurable 
sentience is given by Grant Allen : ^^ Pleasure is the con- 
comitant of the healthy action of any or all of the organs 
or members supplied with afferent cerebro-spinal nerves, 
to an extent not exceeding the ordinary powers of repara- 
tion possessed by the system. '' This statement may be 
accepted as the best formula that can now be given of the 
conditions under which pleasure arises from physical 
sensation. It must not, however, be accepted as a defini- 
tion of pleasure. 

Bain has formulated the connection of feelings with physical 
states in the following law : " States of pleasure are concomitant 
with an increase, and states of pain with an abatement, of some, or 
all, of the vital functions." * In commenting on this statement, 
Allen says: "If pleasures were the psychical concomitants of an 
increase of some of the vital functions, then our two greatest, if not 



SENSATIONS. 233 

only, pleasures ought to be digestion and repose after exertion; 
whereas these are really only minor and very indefinite pleasures." ^ 
He then continues, after stating the formula cited above, "pleasure 
on the whole is chiefly referable to a healthy state of the organism 
generally, one in which every part is enabled to perform its proper 
functions unimpeded, and no undue call is made upon any single 
organ or member. . . . And if, in such a condition of body, we give 
free play to all the activities of the system, nervous and muscular, — 
as in taking a morning walk on a sunny day in spring, after a good 
night's rest and a hearty breakfast, — we receive a massive impression 
of pleasure which corresponds partially [in amount ?] to the massive 
discomfort of fatigue, inanition or anaemia. . . . While Professor 
Bain refers pleasure to an increase in the efficiency of the organism, 
it may better be regarded as the concomitant of a normal amount of 
activity in any portion or the whole of the organism. Or, to employ 
once more the metaphor of the steam-engine, we may say that 
pleasure results, not from the act of coaling, watering or oiling, but 
from the harmonious working of all the parts. And, as all activity 
implies a waste of tissue (since it is dynamically equivalent to the 
passage of potential into kinetic energy), pleasure is to a certain ex- 
tent concomitant with a decrease of vital function. The limit at 
which such waste of tissue ceases to be pleasurable and begins to be 
painful is, I believe, the point where the waste exceeds the ordinary 
powers of repair." ^ 

4. Conditions of Painful Sentience. 

Pains are of two classes, (1) acute and (2) massive. An 
acute pain is sharp and either sudden or intermittent. A 
massive pain is dull and continuous. The pulling of a 
tooth produces acute pain. A tooth-ache also is some- 
times an acute pain, frequently felt in recurrent throbs. 
A head-ache from indigestion is usually a massive pain, 
continuing for some time. Acute pains, as a class, 
accompany the action of destructive agencies, as cuts, 
burns and bruises. Massive pains usually accompany ex- 
cessive or obstructed functional action, as when one strains 



234 PSYCHOLOGY, 

the muscles by over- use or confines the body for some time 
to one position. 

*' If we take a rapid survey of the principal varieties of physical 
pain, the first point which strikes us is that the greater part of them, 
and especially the most intense, are the concomitants of a violent 
dismemberment in some one of the tissues. Of all pains with which 
we are acquainted, the strongest are those which accompany the 
severance of an actual sensible portion of the body, as in the ampu- 
tation of a limb, the excision of an ulcer, or the removal of a scalp. 
The disruption from the body of a much smaller member is also ex- 
tremely painful, as, for example, the loss of a nail or the drawing of 
a tooth. To pinch off a small piece of skin (below the epidermis) or 
to pull out a hair occasions a considerable smart. In short, to tear 
or cut away from the body any one of its constituent tissues is one 
most conspicuous cause of pain. Again, merely to sever the tissues 
without actual dismemberment is also painful. Take as instances 
wounds, cuts, pricks and scratches. To pare or break the nails be- 
low the quick, to pull open a sore, to have the face or lips chapped, 
are other similar cases. Disruption of tissue is, therefore, a second 
and closely-allied cause of pain. Disintegration of any part of the 
body owing to causes not so directly mechanical is accompanied by 
the same subjective states: as in burning off a finger, having the 
feet frozen so that the joints drop off, destroying the skin and 
muscles with a corrosive acid, and so forth. Like mental manifesta- 
tions occur when the tissues are bruised, crushed or broken. Of this 
we have every-day experience in blows, falls, kicks and rubs. Here 
we can easily see that there is still disintegration, though of smaller 
tissues. This is proved by the concentration of blood in the area of 
disruption which causes the flesh to appear 'black and blue,' and 
shows that the delicate epithelium of the capillaries has been broken 
and an extravasation has taken place ; by the weal, raised after a 
smart tap from a whip; and by blisters which follow friction and 
testify to the separation of the skin from the subjacent tissues by 
allowing an effusion to collect in the interstice. All these cases are 
produced by the interference of external bodies with the organism. 
... In other cases, the evidence only shows a tendency to disrup- 
tion rather than its actual presence. Whenever a mass of connective 
tissue is exposed to a violent strain, the nerves which it contains are 



SJEJSrSATIOJ^S, 235 

pinched or twisted and arouse an intensely painful sensation." * In 
still other cases, we can discover a decomposition of tissue, as in the 
case of excessive muscular exertion, or an insufficient nutrition, as in 
the case of nervous debility, as the accompaniments of pain. Here 
also there is molecular disruption in the tissues of the body. 

5. The Range of Sensation. 

If we follow the rise and progress of any particular 
sensation, we shall discover (1) that its external cause 
must reach a certain degree of intensity before the ^'thresh- 
old of consciousness^^ is reached, that is, before it can 
produce a sensation (page 60). If the sensation continues 
to increase in intensity, we find (2) that, at a certain 
point, there is a transition in its quality, a painful sensa- 
tion becoming pleasurable, as when the discomfort caused 
by a dim and trying light gives way to pleasure when the 
light becomes stronger ; or a pleasurable sensation becom- 
ing painful, as when a light becomes so strong as to dazzle 
and hurt the eye. This transition is very marked in 
sensations of temperature. Finally, if a sensation, pleas- 
urable at first, simply continues, without change of in- 
tensity, we find (3) that, after some time, its duration 
alone renders it disagreeable. 

In the sphere of sensations of sound, for example, a low, almost 
indistinguishable sound is very disagreeable. When it becomes a 
little louder, so as not to strain the attention, it loses its disagreeable 
quality. But when it becomes very loud it pains the ear. A very 
slight stimulus divides the consciousness and the efforts of attention 
are constantly defeated. The soul fails to find an object for its in- 
terpretation. A very great stimulation overtaxes the powers and 
occasions pain. Pleasure results only from the moderate stimula- 
tion of the sense-organ, affording satisfaction to the interpreting 
power and still not producing a destructive disturbance in the organ. 
This holds of all the senses. 



236 PSTGHOLOGT. 



6. The Laws of Pleasurable Sensation. 

There are two principles, or laws, of pleasurable sensa- 
tion which are of considerable practical importance. 
They are : 

(1) The Law of Variety. — When any sense-organ is 
over-taxed, either by too intense or too prolonged activity, 
the sensations become disagreeable. Hence, variety is 
necessary to a pleasing effect. This law of variety fur- 
nishes an important principle of art, in so far as art appeals 
to the senses. Monotony of tone, form, and color is never 
pleasing. It must be broken up by variety. 

(2) The Law of Harmony. — The simultaneous demand 
for attention in many, especially in opposite, directions, is 
disagreeable, because every sensation is interrupted before 
it is fully realized. Hence, a certain harmony is necessary 
for a pleasing effect. Discordant tones, incongruous 
forms, and inharmonious colors are even more disagree- 
able than monotony. Unity is, therefore, an important 
principle of art. Some have held that the whole secret of 
beauty lies in variety in unity. Of merely sensuous beauty 
this is certainly true, but we shall soon see that ideal 
beauty involves much more. Variety relieves our powers 
from too intense and prolonged exertion, while harmony 
secures unity in their action. 

The distinction between sensuous and ideal beauty is a real and 

an important one. It will, perhaps, be more evident when we have 
noted more precisely the difference between sensations and senti- 
ments, but we may be able to promote the apprehension of that 
difference by introducing some .statements here. Certain sounds, 
forms, and colors are pleasing in themselves, wholly apart from their 
combinations and the meaning which those combinations reveal. 



Take, for illustration, two human voices, one pure and soft, the 
other aspirate and metallic. The same musical note sounded by 
these two voices will affect us differently. Take, now, the more 
pleasing of these two voices. Let it begin at a pleasing note and 
run up the scale, and it will finally reach a point where it will become 
disagreeable. Such isolated tones are simply sensuous elements. 
They have a beauty of their own. The same may be said of forms. 
There are ugly and there are pleasing forms. The same is true of 
colors. All these constitute elements of sensuous beauty in the 
objects which possess them. Their pleasing quality depends upon 
their adaptation to produce a normal activity in the sense-organs. 
Certain tones awaken an agreeable stimulation in the auditory 
organs. Certain lines, particularly curved lines, produce an easy 
and diversified activity in the visual organs, uniting variety and 
harmony ; while others require abrupt movements or a continuous 
activity in one direction. Certain colors are called " harmonious," 
as blue and yellow, red and green, and are said "to go well to- 
gether." Such combinations are sometimes spoken of as having a 
' ' restful " effect upon the eye. We cannot here enter upon a de- 
tailed explanation of these relations, but inquiry shows that such 
combinations of color are in a strict and literal sense "restful," em- 
ploying now this now that portion of the optic organ. There is, 
then, a sensuous beauty, or beauty that appeals to the senses. 
Milton perceived this element when he described effective poetry as 
"Simple, sensiious and passionate." But this sensuous element is 
only, as it were, the body of beauty. The idea, the product of the 
transforming power of Intellect, furnishes the ideal element, the 
soul of beauty. To this we shall refer in a subsequent section. 



7. The Association of Sensations. 

We have seen how difficult it is to reproduce sensations 
without the presence of the objects causing them (pages 
97, 98). We are able, however, to form and to reproduce 
ideas of sensations. These are never quite the same as 
the sensations themselves (page 68). Thus, we cannot 
produce in consciousness a sensation of a tooth-ache or of 



^38 PSTGBOLOaT. 

the scent of a flower, but we have ideas of those sensa- 
tions. Such ideas are associated, like all other ideas, and 
so we always think of some experiences as being pleasant 
and of others as painful. Hence, certain trains of ideas 
produce pleasure and others pain. This pleasure and this 
pain are ideal, but constitute for us important elements of 
experience. We seek the pleasant and shun the painful, 
and thus, at last, through association of feelings, establish 
preferences for certain objects and ideas, and dislikes for 
others. 

Language has the power to suggest trains of associated ideas and, 
through these, to stir and move the feelings. Much of the influence 
of the orator and the poet depends upon the subtle associations con- 
nected with our sensuous experience. Observation shows that the 
most effective orations and poems, in their influence upon the feel- 
ings, are those in which words suggesting sensations abound. This 
is probably the origin of the term " sensational," used to designate 
a type of writing and speaking that depends largely upon this sensu- 
ous element in style for its effects. Hence, one of the definitions of 
the "sensational " is, "done for effect." "While our rational nature 
resents being thus practiced upon, there is no doubt that the "ef- 
fect" sought is actually produced and that audiences are "stirred" 
and "fired" by "words that burn." 

8. Relation of Sensations to Education. 

The relation of sensations to education is twofold : 
(1) sensations furnish a basis for the government of a 
child, and (2) sensations must themselves be governed 
through the child^s higher nature. 

(1) Government of the Child through his Sensations. — 
All government begins with the assumption that pain 
will be avoided and pleasure will be sought. The child 
will follow the line of least resistance. The meaning of 



SJSKSATlom. 239 

punishment is pain ; the meaning of reward is pleasure. 
At first, the only sphere of either pleasure or pain for a 
human being is that of his sensations. Hence, he is 
primarily governed through these alone. Most legisla- 
tors hold that this, which is unquestionably true of all at 
the beginning, never ceases to be true of the majority of 
men. A great jurist has said, '^'^Man is the subject of two 
sovereign masters, pain and pleasure." ^ The first gov- 
ernment, at least, must be corporal. As the soul ex- 
pands and rises into the sphere of psychical pleasures and 
pains, the government should rise into it also. If it does 
not, the subject of the government is degraded. A being 
is best governed on his highest plane. 

(2) Government of the Sensations through the Child. — 
A point is reached in the development of a human being 
when the process of governing him through his sensations 
should pass into the government of his sensations through 
his higher nature. He must be taught obedience, pa- 
tience and fortitude. He can no longer follow the line 
of least resistance without peril of degradation. He must 
obey, although obedience requires pain. He must be pa- 
tient, although patience involves the mastery of feeling. 
He must be firm, although suffering accompanies forti- 
tude. Government must now be transferred to the realm 
of Keason and Conscience. How can this transfer be 
made ? It can be made only by eliciting a consciousness 
of the superior nature. This can be accomplished by 
assuming its existence, by appealing to its authority, and 
by administering rewards and punishments in the terms 
of the nobler nature. If government is to be rational 
and moral, its punishments must be rational and moral 
also. 



uo PSTGMOLoar. 

In this section, on "Simple Sentience,'* we have 
considered :— 

1, Kinds of Simple Sentience. 

2, Conditions of Simple Sentience. 

3, Conditions of JPleasurable Sentience. 

4, Conditions of Painful Sentience. 

5, Tlie Range of Sensation, 

6, The Laws of Pleasurable Sensation, 

7, The Association of Sensations. 

8, Melation of Sensations to Education, 

References : (1) Bain's The Senses and the Intellect, p. 283. 
(2) Grant Allen's Physiological ^Esthetics, p. 20. (3) Id., pp. 21, 
22. (4) Id., pp. 6, 7. (5) This is the assumption on which Jeremy 
Bentham founds his Principles of Morals and Legislation. 



SECTIOIT 11* 

APPETITE, 

1. Appetite Distinguished from Simple Sentience. 

Appetite is distinguished from Simple Sentience by two 
characteristics. They are : 

(1) Appetency, which is a tendency to seek for some 
object or to perform some act when the appetite is aroused. 
Thus, the appetite of hunger includes, in addition to the 
simple sentience of innutrition, the tendency to seek and 
devour food. Provision is made in our constitution for a 
certain activity whenever the appetite is aroused. This 
activity is not an effort of intelligence but an inborn im- 
T)ulse, or instinct. 

(2) Periodicity, which attends all the appetites, while 



SENSATIONS. 241 

simple sentience is merely occasional. It seems to be 
governed by a law of the organism itself. Hunger, for 
example, returns at intervals more or less regular, accord- 
ing to liabit. If the habit of taking food is regular, the 
period is quite uniform. 

The difference between appetite and instinct should be noted. 
It is well drawn by Marie Hoplcins (1802-1887): "The appetite 
craves, instinct directs. The appetite is presentative, the instinct is 
regulative." ^ It may be added that this direction is a blind, not a 
consciously intelligent, direction. Appetite makes us conscious of a 
need, instinct directs us how to supply it. It implies a correlation 
of means and ends, but it is not a rational correlation resulting from 
our intelligence. The nature of instinct will be more explicitly dis- 
cussed in another connection. 

Appetite must not be identified with feeling as a mere incentive 
to action. Bain says: "If a spur to action were to constitute ap- 
petite, all our pains and pleasures would come under this designa- 
tion. But the appetites commonly considered are a select class of 
feelings, and are circumscribed by the following property — namely, 
that they are the cravings produced by the recurring wants and 
necessities of our bodily, or organic, life." ^ 

2. Natural Appetites. 

The following are the most definitely marked natural 
appetites : 

(1) Hunger. — The waste of the bodily tissues requires to 
be constantly repaired by food, which supplies new ma- 
terials for assimilation. The securing of food is, for the 
higher organisms, a complicated act requiring the direct- 
ing power of mind. The conscious craving leads us to 
provide food which, when before us, we instinctively 
appropriate to the needs of the body. Instinct teaches us 
what we need, intelligence enables us to procure it. As 
the organs for the reception of food are of limited capacity. 



242 PSYCHOLOGY. 

the supply has to be taken after short intervals, so that 
the craving for food becomes periodic. 

"In the case of hunger, as in most of the appetites, there is a 
double spur to the taking of food; first, the stimulus of uneasiness, 
and next the impulse arising out of the pleasure of eating. It is well 
understood that these two things are quite different, and on their 
difference hangs the whole art of refined cookery. Very plain food 
would satisfy the craving for nutrition, but there is a superadded 
pleasure which we have to cater for. The one is the appetite in its 
istrictest signification and as found in the lower animals ; the other 
we may call a desire, because it supposes the remembrance and 
anticipation of positive pleasure, like the desire for music or for 
knowledge." ^ The appetite proper belongs to the sphere of sensa- 
tions ; as desire, it is the concomitant of certain ideas. The inter- 
relation of appetite, consciousness, and instinct becomes clear the 
moment we consider their dependence. ^ there were no conscious 
craving, the intelligence could not be brought to minister to the 
preservation of the body. If there were no instinctive tendency to 
seek food, the intelligence would merely know itself as the subject 
of a craving without direction toward the needed object. Instinct 
directs the conscious craving toward its object and intelligence de- 
vises means of procuring it. 

(2) Thirst. — This appetite hardly needs to be distin- 
guished from hunger, for it is simply the craving for 
liquid food. It is more imperative than the appetite for 
solid food, and demands more frequent satisfaction. 

(3) Suffocation. — This is the appetite for air. The 
lungs are the organs in which the blood receives its 
supply of oxygen and through which carbonic acid gas is 
emitted. They demand a constant supply of pure air. 
If for any cause it is withheld, a painful feeling is. pro- 
duced and the organs seek their needed supply by jrapid 
gasping, whereby they extract from the air a larger pro- 
portion of oxygen. 



** Observe a man threatened with suffocation: remark the sudden 
and wild energy that pervades every feature ; the contractions of the 
throat, the gasping and the spasmodic twitchings of his face, the 
heaving of his chest and shoulders, and how he stretches his hand 
and catches like a drowning man. These are efforts made under the 
oppressive intolerable sensation at his heart; and the means which 
nature employs to guard and preserve the animal machine, giving to 
the vital organ a sensibility that excites to the utmost exertion."'* 

(4) Weariness. — This is the craving for a new supply 
of energy consequent upon the exhaustion of the amount 
previously possessed. It is a tendency to seek repose and 
sleep. Sometimes, however, sleep is rendered impossible 
by the degree of exhaustion. The weariness occasions an 
excitation that prevents sleep. Muscular exhaustion, un- 
less positively painful, usually induces sleep, but nervous 
exhaustion may so excite the system as to induce wake- 
fulness. 

** The fact of periodic recurrence is in no case more strikingly ex- 
emplified than in sleep. After a certain period of waking activity, 
there supervenes a powerful sensation of repose. If we give way to 
it at once, the state of sleep creeps over us and we pass through a 
few moments of agreeable repose into unconsciousness. If we are 
prevented from yielding to the sleepy orgasm, its cnit^acter as an 
appetite is brought out into strong relief. The voluminous uneasi- 
ness that possesses all the muscles and organs of sense, stimulates a 
strong resistance to the power that keeps us awake ; the uneasiness 
and the resistance increasing with the continued refusal of the per- 
mission to sleep, until the condition becomes intolerable, or until the 
reaction ensues, which drives off the drowsiness for some time longer. 
The overpowering influence of drowsiness is well seen in infants." ^ 

(5) Restlessness. — This is the opposite of weariness. 
It is the appetite for activity. When the supply of energy 
is superabundant, there is a craving for^n opportunity to 
work it off. It is shown in the playfulness of children 



244 PSYCHOLOGY. 

and all young animals. Persons accustomed to any form 
of exercise or of excitement find themselves wretched 
when the supply of surplus energy accumulates without 
the accustomed opportunity for expending it. Action and 
companionship are then demanded, and through them 
relief is afforded. 

We have no word in the English language to express precisely 
what is meant by the French word "ennui." It is a state of de- 
pression from having nothing to do, and the French, characteristic- 
ally vivacious and active, have found this name for it. It is a com- 
mon experience whenever there is little to occupy the attention. The 
silence of the country is disagreeable to those who are accustomed to 
the noises of the city, unless they find compensation in the charms of 
nature. Every sense-organ demands its accustomed stimulation. 
Silence and solitude are enjoyed only by those minds which have an 
activity of their own independent of sense-impressions. The thought- 
ful and reflective can be their own companions. 

(6) Sexual Passion. — This is one of the most potent 
appetites. When united with other feelings of a higher 
order, such as the aesthetic appreciation of beauty, the 
desire for congenial companionship, the appreciation of 
home, tW^enderness of personal affection, and the moral 
sentiments that arise from the sacred relation of marriage, 
it becomes the bond of society and a potent factor of 
civilization. It is the one human appetite which demands 
another human being for its satisfaction, and hence has a 
peculiar moral and social character. 



3. Acquired Appetites. 

"We have treated thus far of the natural appetites. 
These are implanted by nature in the organization of man 
for his preservation. There are, however, other appetites 



SENSATIONS. 245 

which are acquired. The most common forms of acquired 
appetites are those which have for their end the artificial 
stimulation of the nervous system. Tobacco, alcohol, and 
opium are the favorite drugs employed for this purpose. 
At first they affect the system disagreeably, but after a 
time the stimulation which they afford becomes an object 
of desire. The use of such drugs finally creates a periodic, 
and in many cases an almost incessant, demand. 

The use of a stimulant is within the sphere of voluntary action ; 
the effect it produces is wholly beyond this sphere. An acquired 
appetite is not always so much the result of an act of Will as it is the 
result of physical action. One who begins the use of stimulants 
seldom intends to acquire a dominating appetite. He is usually 
astonished, possibly distressed, when he first discovers that he is in 
bondage to it. He tries to escape responsibility by saying he never 
intended to become a slave to his appetite. The psychological 
history of a destructive appetite usually involves no psychical action 
whatever, simply inaction. Not to resist, is to surrender ; to sur- 
render, is to permit the soul to become the slave of the body. Here, 
as everywhere, "Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty." The 
craving for alcohol requires no voluntary act to establish it as a dis- 
ease beyond all control and beyond all cure. If not positively 
forbidden to act, the physical cause accomplishes its effect as inevi- 
tably in the brain as in a test-tube. The only security is in keeping 
the cause so far from the body that its properties do not affect it. 

4. Inherited Appetites. 

Appetites acquired by one generation are sometimes 
transmitted to following generations, having all the force 
of natural appetites. There is evidence that acquired 
peculiarities of natural appetite, such as craving for cer- 
tain particular kinds of food, are capable of inheritance. 
The artificial appetites are also transmitted, though fre- 
quently in a somewhat modified form. Whoever creates 



246 PSYCHOLOGY. 

an artificial appetite affects his posterity as well as himself. 
Although he may limit indulgence within what he may 
consider the bounds of moderation, he can have no assur- 
ance that all who derive the appetite from him will have 
this power of control also. 

"The passion known as dipsomania, or alcoholism, is so frequently 
transmitted that all are agreed in considering its heredity as the rule. 
Not, however, that the passion for drink is always transmitted in 
that identical form, for it often degenerates into mania, idiocy and 
hallucination. Conversely, insanity in the parents may become 
alcoholism in the descendants. This continual metamorphosis 
plainly shows how near passion comes to insanity, how closely the 
successive generations are connected, and, consequently, what a 
weight of responsibility rests on each individual. ' A frequent eiffect 
of alcoholism, ' says Dr. Magnus Huss, ' is partial or total atrophy of 
the brain ; the organ is reduced in volume, so that it no longer fills 
the bony case. The consequence is a mental degeneration, which in 
the progeny results in lunatics and idiots.' " ^ 

5. The Control of Appetite. 

Man is the only animal who has the intelligence to make 
the pleasure afforded in the gratification of appetite a dis- 
tinct object of pursuit. He does this through his power 
of conception, by which he forms a concept of pleasure as 
an end of effort and, accordingly, makes ^^ provision for 
the flesh, to fulfill the lusts thereof. ^^ The animals less 
intelligent than man, not possessing this power, do not 
pursue pleasure as an end ; but, when their appetites are 
satisfied, are content to await their natural return. Man's 
intelligence was given him as a guide, not as a servant of 
artificial appetite. He can use it for its natural end, the 
discovery of truth, or he can pervert it for self-gratifica- 
tion. He realizes his dignity as a personal being only 



SENSATIONS. 247 

when lie governs his appetites by the laws of Reason and 
Conscience, and, as a rational master, refuses to surrender 
himself to a sensuous slavery. . 

In the lower animals, it is believed, appetite has a general trust- 
worthiness. It certainly is not so in man. Error is more common 
than accuracy in the blind impulses of mere appetite. Almost all 
medicines, which science prescribes, appetite rejects. It is, indeed, 
possible that appetite is often right in its protests against medica- 
ments, but certainly we cannot claim that appetite is a safe criterion. 
Whence this distinction between the appetites of man and the lower 
animals? It may be attributed partly to the presence of acquired 
and inherited appetites in man, partly to his concept of the pleasur- 
able as the end of appetite, partly to a purpose that he should be 
compelled to employ his intelligence where the mere animal is served 
by instinct. 

6. Kelation of Appetite to Education. 

Appetite has two important practical bearings upon 
education : (1) as affording a serious impediment to 
mental improvement, and (2) as furnishing opportunity 
for strengthening the power of self-control. 

(1) Appetite as an Impediment to Education. — We have 
only to reflect a little to see that the appetites are obstruc- 
tions to the development of the mental powers. All 
mental application, beyond what is purely spontaneous, 
is, at first and apart from its fruits, disagreeable. The 
sensations of weariness and restlessness must be put out of 
consciousness before much reflection can be accomplished. 
These sensations absorb the attention and distract it from 
the process of learning. The child must be made to sit 
still, to forget his body, and to attend to the teacher's 
words. It is a struggle of mind against matter. It never 
wholly ends and the mind is never the complete victor. 



248 PSYCHOLOGY. 

The spontaneous activities of the child may be summed 
up under the word ^^play^"; the reflective efforts, under 
the word "study/' Play is easier than study, because 
play calls out action along established lines of least resist- 
ance, while study involves a new kind of action. The 
partial victory that mind wins over the body is won only 
gradually and by ingenious devices and much patience 
on the part of the teacher. How to abstract the 
child's attention from his body and fix it upon his work, 
is the problem which the teacher of children has to 
solve. 

(2) Appetite and Self-control. — The animal cannot 
study, because it has no power over its appetites. It lives 
in the periodic round of its sensations and has no power to 
appreciate motives above them. The child also is inca- 
pable of self -directed study until, by development, he 
comes to the exercise of his superior powers. When he 
can separate the future from the present and appreciate 
the meaning of ideas, he becomes capable of controlling 
his activities, and by an act of Will withdraws attention 
from his physical cravings and directs it to facts and 
principles. Every victory over his appetites strengthens 
his power of self-control. Finally, he can study even 
when his brain is weary and can quiet his restless muscles. 
But this triumph is merely relative. The majority win a 
very imperfect victory. Only a few obtain a high degree 
of self-mastery. None are completely liberated from the 
conditions of organic appetency. Physical cravings set 
limits to all higher activity, and the bodily life demands 
that the natural appetites shall have their normal indulg- 
ence. If they do not receive it, the body enters its pro- 
test in disease. 



SENSATIONS. 249 

In this section, on *' Appetite," we have considered : 

1, Appetite Distinguished from Simple Sentience, 

2, Natural Appetites* 

3, Acquired Appetites* 
d. Inherited Appetites. 

5, The Control of Appetite* 

6, The Relation of Appetite to Education, 

References : (1) Mark Hopkins' Outline Study of Man, p. 205. 
(2) Bain's The Senses and tlxe Intellect, p. 240. (3) Id., p. 243. 

(4) Sir Charles Bell's Anatomy and Philosophy of Expression, p. 91. 

(5) Bain's The Senses and the Intellect, p. 241. (6) Ribot's Heredity, 
pp, 85, 86. 



CHAPTER IL 

SENTIMENTS. 

THE THREE CLASSES OF SENTIMENTS. 

Sentiments are of three kinds : (1) Emotions, which are 
feelings of internal excitement in the soul, and might be 
called ^^ commotions ^^ if it were not for the fact that they 
have a tendency to discharge themselves outwardly by 
physical expression ; (2) Desires, which are feelings of 
internal craving in the soul, demanding something for 
their satisfaction ; and (3) Affections, which are feelings 
of internal fullness in the soul, going forth toward some 
object outside of self, on account of some quality in the 
object. Each of these forms of sentiment will be con- 
sidered in a separate section, to be followed by a discussion 
of the Development of Sensibility. 



SBGTIOIT L 

EMOTION. 
1. The Nature of iEmotion. 

Emotion (from the Latin e, out of, and movere, to move) 
is an excitation in the soul arising through the apprehen- 
sion of ideas and tending to find outward expression. It 
differs from sensation, as all sentiments do, in having a 



SENTIMENTS. 251 

psychical rather than a physical origin. It is distinguished 
from other sentiments in tending to express itself out- 
wardly, as in laughter or tears. Desire, on the other 
hand, is an internal craving. Affection is like emotion 
in being an internal fullness, but has a definite outward 
object, while emotion has not. We may best illustrate 
these differences by typical examples. Grief is an emotion, 
consisting in a general disturbance of a painful kind in 
the soul, usually caused by the loss of some dear object 
and tending to express itself in sadness of countenance 
and tears. Ambition is a desire, consisting in a craving 
for the possession of power, a state of uneasiness which is 
not ended until the craving is satisfied. Pity is an affec- 
tion, being a state of interest in the distress of another, a 
fullness that goes out toward a definite object. These out- 
line distinctions will be more clearly apprehended as we 
proceed to discuss the yarious forms of sentiment. 



2. The Expression of Emotion. 

While it is not essential to the existence of emotiorwthat 
it should be expressed, all emotion tends to find expres- 
sion. An emotion and its expression must not, however, 
be identified. An emotion is a form of consciousness. 
The expression of an emotion is a movement, or series of 
movements, in the physical organism. The visible move- 
ment in the organism is certainly not the cause of the 
emotion, but its effect. The emotion itself cannot be 
localized in any part of the body, as a sensation can, but 
is simply a conscious state. Grief, for example, is such a 
state. Tears and facial contractions, the expressive signs 
of grief, are physical effects. The soul reacts upon the 



252 PSYGEOLOGY. 

body involuntarily and sets in motion the motor mechan- 
ism. How a conscious state can produce a physical 
change is quite as much beyond our knowledge as how a 
physical movement can produce a state of consciousness 
in an act of Sense-perception. The particular forms of 
expression will be noted in connection with the descrip- 
tion of each emotion. 

Darwin has attempted to account for the phenomena of expression 
by the supposition that they are results of organic action, without 
reference to expression as a special end or purpose. He refers the 
various forms of expression to the following three principles : 

I. " The principle of serviceable associated Habits.— Certain 
complex actions are of direct or indirect service under certain states 
of the mind, in order to relieve or gratify certain sensations, desires, 
etc.; and whenever the same state of mind is induced, however 
feebly, there is a tendency through the force of habit and association 
for the same movements to be performed, though they may not then 
be of the least use. Some actions ordinarily associated through 
habit with certain states of the mind may be partially repressed 
through the Will, and in such cases the muscles which are least under 
the separate control of the "Will are the most liable still to act, caus- 
ing movements which we recognize as expressive. In certain other 
cases the checking of one habitual movement requires other slight 
movem'Snts ; and these are likewise expressive. 

II. " The principle of Antithesis. — Certain states of the mind lead 
to certain habitual actions which are of service, as under our first 
principle. Now when a directly opposite state of mind is induced, 
there is a strong and involuntary tendency to the performance of 
movements of a directly opposite nature, though these are of no use ; 
and such movements are in some cases highly expressive. 

III. " The principle of actions due to the constitution of the 
Nervous System, independently from the first of the Will, and inde- 
pendently to a certain extent of Habit.— When the sensorium is 
strongly excited, nerve-force is generated in excess and is transmitted 
in certain definite directions, depending on the connection of the 
nerve-cells and partly on habit ; or the supply of nerve-force may, as 
it appears, be interrupted. Effects are thus produced which we 



SENTIMENTS. 253 

recognize as expressive. This third principle may, for the sake of 
brevity, be called that of the direct action of the nervous system." ^ 
No one can doubt, after reading Darwin's explanatory chapters, 
that these three principles explain many of the expressive actions of 
both man and animals. Design is not, however, clearly excluded 
from that constitution of the nervous system which renders certain 
expressive movements possible. There is no disproof of Sir Charles 
Bell's view ''that man has been created with certain muscles 
specially adapted for the expression of his feelings." That certain 
muscles are so adapted, there is no doubt. It would require great 
boldness to affirm that they were not intended to be so. 



3. The Production of Emotion. 

Emotion is produced as the accompaniment of certain 
ideas. A telegraphic dispatch is the occasion of joy or 
sorrow, according to the ideas it conveys ; and through 
these it produces the most opposite physical effects. The 
cause of the difference is certainly not any physical attri- 
bute of the telegraphic dispatch. The writing on the 
paper produces no effect, except upon a mind that under- 
stands its contents, that is, the emotion is produced only 
as the concomitant of ideas. The poet and the orator do 
not awaken emotion by telling us that we ought to have a 
certain kind of feeling, or by advancing arguments to 
prove that it is suitable. They present certain ideas 
which awaken the desired emotion as their spontaneous' 
accompaniment. Ideal presence is the condition of emo- 
tion. The objects to which the ideas relate may be real 
or unreal; the effect is the same, if we surrender our- 
selves to the illusion. If a real sight would make us 
sad, a vivid description, even though it be fictitious, will 
have a similar effect. The emotion arises as an inex- 
plicable accompaniment of certain ideas. Imagination 



254 PSYGSOLOGY. 

is the idealizing activity which produces emotions by 
creating the ideas which they accompany. It is, there- 
fore, in a special sense, the faculty of the poet and the 
orator. 

William James has advanced the doctrine that an emotion is 
identical with the feehng of the bodily changes by which it is ex- 
pressed.^ He admits, however, that, according to common sense, we 
first feel an emotion and afterward experience its bodily expression. 
While the majority of mankind will, probably, continue to accept 
the verdict of common sense, it is certainly true that a particular 
emotion may be produced by actions expressive of the emotion. 
As he forcibly says: " Every one knows how a panic is increased by 
flight and how the giving way to the symptoms of grief or anger in- 
creases those passions themselves. Each fit of sobbing makes the 
sorrow more acute and calls forth another fit stronger still, until at 
last repose only ensues with lassitude and with the apparent exhaus- 
tion of the machinery. In rage, it is notorious how we ' work our- 
selves up ' to a climax by repeated outbreaks of expression. Refuse 
to express a passion and it dies. Count ten before venting your 
anger, and its occasion seems ridiculous. "Whistling to keep up 
courage is no mere figure of speech. On the other hand, sit all day 
in a moping posture, sigh, and reply to everything with a dismal 
voice, and your melancholy lingers. There is no more valuable pre- 
cept in moral education than this, as all who have experience know : 
if we wish to conquer undesirable emotional tendencies in ourselves, 
we must assiduously, and in the first instance cold-bloodedly, go 
through the outward motions of those contrary dispositions we prefer 
to cultivate. The reward of persistency will infallibly come, in the 
fading out of the sullenness or depression and the advent of real 
cheerfulness and kindliness in their stead." ^ All this assumes, 
however, that we know these actions. The emotions then arise 
as accompaniments of the ideas thus generated. A funny book 
will do the same for us that a good laugh will: it will provoke 
the emotions of mirth, which will then, if strong enough, make 
us laugh. Can we suppose that a funny story would make any 
one laugh except through his consciousness, that is, through his 
ideas ? _ ' " 



SENTIMENTS, 265 



4. Kinds of Emotion. 



Emotion appears in four forms sufficiently distinct to 
admit of being grouped into separate classes : (1) Egoistic 
Emotion, or that which arises as the concomitant of ideas 
relating directly to self and the interests of self; (2) 
Esthetic Emotion, or that which arises as the concomitant 
of ideas of nature and art; (3) Ethical Emotion, or that 
which arises as the concomitant of intentional actions, 
viewed as in, or out of, harmony with moral law ; and (4) 
Religious Emotion, or that which arises as the concomitant 
of the idea of personal power and perfection in the 



We have already seen why it is difficult to classify the feelings, 
and it is not pretended that this classification is either exhaustive or 
without cross-divisions. It is offered as a natural and practically 
useful classification, and has the advantage of employing language 
in its accepted meaning, without straining words to fit an arbitrary 
manner of division. 



5. Egoistic Emotions. 

These emotions may be grouped as follows : 
(1) Emotions of Joy. — These are all pleasurable. They 
are of different degrees of intensity, and we have many 
words to express this variation. We may distinguish [a) 
Contentment, a low form of joyful emotion, tending to 
express itself in a calm and placid countenance ; {h) 
Cheerfulness, a greater degree of Joy, tending to express 
itself in playful movements, and snatches of song and 
laughter ; and (c) Rapture, an ecstatic state of Joy, tend- 
ing to express itself in very demonstrative ways, as in 



256 PSYCHOLOGY, 

exclamations, leaping and dancing. Joy marks a transi- 
tion from a lower to a higher idea of self-perfection. 

(2) Emotions of Sorrow. — These are disagreeable, the 
opposites of the joyful emotions. Their principal forms 
are (a) Depression, which is a vague feeling of unhappi- 
ness, manifested in a dull and lifeless countenance ; (h) 
Dejection, which is a deeper sadness, indicated by the 
downcast eye, lengthened features, and a lack of interest 
in surroundings ; and (c) Grief, which is a strong and 
agitating distress, expressed by floods of tears and con- 
vulsive movements of the face, which even strong men 
cannot always resist. In its most intense form, Grrief does 
not flow out in tears, but stupefies and transfixes the whole 
man. The effort to repress it, or the highest degree of it, 
may lead to an injury to the brain. Sorrow marks a 
transition from a higher to a lower idea of self-perfection. 

As these two kinds of emotion, the joyful and the. sorrowful, are 
opposite in nature, so also they tend to express themselves in opposite 
ways. Joy expresses itself in the levity (from the Latin Zems, light), 
or uplifting, of the features of the face; Sorrow, in the gravity 
(from the Latin gravis, heavy), or drawing down, of the features. 
An examination of Figure 19 shows the arrangement of the muscles 
which give expression to the face. Those of the region round the 
mouth are more fully exhibited in Figure 20. When these muscles 
are allowed to hang by their own weight, under the influence of 
gravity, they express Sorrow. When they are lifted by the action 
of nervous and muscular force, they express Joy. The effect of 
their action is shown in Figure 21. Regarding the matter now from 
the subjective side, Sorrow gives us a feeling of weakness ; Joy, a 
feeling of strength. This feeling cannot always be a truthful report 
of our actual physical condition, because, without increasing our 
strength at all, a pleasant idea produces Joy within us, which we at 
once express by lifting up the downcast features. We can explain 
the transition only by an involuntary reaction of the soul upon the 
body, according as the ideas produce Joy or Sorrow. "In Joy," 



says Sip Charles Bell, "the eyebrow is raised moderately, but with- 
out any angularity; the forehead is smooth, the eye full, lively, 
sparkling ; the nostril is moderately inflated and a smile is on the 
lips. In all the exhilarating emotions, the eyebrow, the eyelids, the 
nostril, and the angle of the mouth are raised. In the depressing 
passions it is the reverse. For example, in discontent the brow is 
clouded, the nose peculiarly arched, and the angle of the mouth 
drawn down."* "Writers of fiction, if also observers of nature, 
sometimes describe a man who has just received some depressing 
news — say, a heavy bill — as presenting a very long face. Can we, 
from actual observation and analysis, say that a long face is a mode 
of expression? ... In a case where one side of the face is paralyzed 
by destruction of its motor nerve, the paralyzed side after a time 
drops under the action of gravity. In such a case I have demon- 
strated by measurement that the paralyzed side may be three-quarters 
of an inch longer than the other side when in action. The actual 
length of the face can then be increased if the muscles are paralyzed ; 
so also if they be relaxed from want of nerve-force coming to the 
muscles. A face that is long, owing to nerve-muscular conditions, 
may be a direct expressioii of the brain condition ; a relaxed condi- 
tion of the facial muscles, allowing the face to fall and lengthen, is 
the outcome of feeble nerve-currents coming down from its nerve- 
centres. A long face may, then, indicate weakened brain force, and 
this often accompanies the mental condition following from a sudden 
disappointment. Another factor in producing a long face as a 
temporary condition, is the falling of the lower jaw."^ Ideas seem 
in this case to react upon the brain very much as in the reaction of 
Phantasy (pages 90, 91). 

(3) Emotions of Pride. — These give a certain pleasure 
to the mind. They accompany exalted ideas of self. Pride 
assumes the forms of {a) Self-complacency, {i) Vanity, 
and (c) Haughtiness. They all express themselves by an 
erect stature, a lifting of the features, and the stronger 
forms by the contraction of the eyebrows. 

(4) Emotions of Humility. — Humility is the opposite of 
Pride. It accompanies a low idea of one's merits. It ap- 



35B PSTcmLOGT. 

pears as (a) Modesty, (5) Meekness, and (c) Lowliness. 
These are manifested by blushing, the falling of the eyes, 
and, in the most intense forms, by the prostration of the 
body. 

"A proud man exhibits his sense of superiority over others by 
holding his head and body erect. He is haughty (from the French 
haut, high), and makes himself appear as large as possible ; so that 
metaphorically he is said to be swollen or puffed up with Pride. A 
peacock or a turkey-cock strutting about with puffed-up feathers, is 
sometimes said to be an emblem of Pride. The arrogant man looks 
down on others and with lowered eyelids hardly condescends to see 
them; or he may show his contempt by slight movements about the 
nostrils or lips. Hence the muscle which everts the lower lip has 
been called the musculus superbus (from the Latin superhus, 
proud)." ® See Figure 20, h. There is another muscle called the 
corrugator super cilii, or wrinkler of the eyebrow (Figure 19, 22), 
whose agency in contracting the eyebrow in the expression of Pride 
has given us the word "supercilious." As the emotion of Pride is 
attended with a feeling of physical strength, so that of Humility is 
accompanied with a feeling of weakness. Hence, there is the tend- 
ency to bow the head and prostrate the body. The phenomenon of 
blushing is the usual expression of Modesty. Darwin says: " Blush- 
ing is the most peculiar and the most human of all expressions. 
Monkeys redden with passion, but it would require an overwhelming 
amount of evidence to make us believe that any animal could blush. 
The reddening of the face from a blush is due to the relaxation of 
the muscular coats of the small arteries, by which the capillaries be- 
come filled with blood ; and this depends on the proper vaso-motor 
centre being affected. No doubt if there be at the same time much 
mental agitation, the general circulation will be affected ; but it is 
not due to the action of the heart that the net-work of minute vessels 
covering the face becomes under a sense of shame gorged with blood. 
We can cause laughing by tickling the skin, weeping or frowning 
by a blow, trembling with the fear of pain, and so forth ; but we 
cannot cause a blush, as Dr. Burgess remarks, by any physical 
means, — ^that is, by any action of the body. It is the mind which 
must be affected. Blushing is not only involuntary; but the wish 



SENTIMENTS. 259 

to restrain it, by leading to self-attention, actually increases the 
tendency." ' 

(5) Emotions of Hope. — Hope arises as the accompani- 
ment of expected good. It gives firmness to the soul even 
in the presence of danger. It enlivens, cheers, and stimu- 
lates to action. Its forms are {a) Self-confidence, when 
personal action is necessary; {h) Daring, when danger has 
to be met, and (c) Heroism, when life has to be imperilled. 
Its characteristic modes of expression all indicate strength, 
as the erect form, the open eye, the composed features, and 
the eager attitude. 

(6) Emotions of Fear. — Fear is the opposite of Hope. 
It accompanies expected evil. It is the souFs weakness. 
It may result also from bodily weakness. It is always 
painful, as Hope is pleasurable. Its forms are {a) 
Anxiety, {i) Alarm, {c) Terrop, and {d) Hoppop. Its 
bodily signs are trembling and crouching, the opposites of 
the composure and erect posture of Hope. In its most 
intense forms it is paralyzing, rendering flight, to which 
it disposes, impossible. 

The expression of Fear indicates a greater departure from the 
normal and customary bodily condition than the expression of Hope. 
The heart beats violently. The surface becomes pale. A cold per- 
spiration exudes. The hairs on the skin stand erect and the muscles 
tremble. The respiration is quickened, the mouth becomes dry and 
the voice fails. 

(7) Emotions of Wondep. — Wonder is the emotion pro- 
duced by the unexpected. Its forms are {a) Supprise, {h) 
Amazement, and {c) Awe. It is expressed by suspended 
respiration, a dropping of the jaw, a fixed stare of the 
eyes, and an extending of the hands. 



260 PSYGEOLoar, 

(8) Sympathetic Emotions. — We are so constituted that 
we share the emotions of others. Emotions, of whatever 
kind, communicated in this indirect manner, may be 
called Sympathetic. The word '^ Sympathy" is properly 
applied to any feeling corresponding with the feeling of 
another and occasioned by it. Antipathy is incompatibility 
of feeling, the opposite of Sympathy. 

All emotion Is contagious. The good or bad humor of a speaker 
influences an entire audience. Joy and Sorrow, Hope and Fear, are 
pervasive. Laughter excites laughter; tears provoke tears. A brave 
leader inspires his followers with his own courageous emotions ; a 
routed regiment spreads panic through an entire army. We often 
value persons for their prevailing emotional states, for these have as 
powerful an influence as any personal qualities. 

Emotional states are more easily modified than destroyed. 
The fountains of laughter and of tears lie very close together. It is 
impossible in many cases to check an emotion suddenly where it is 
very easy to change its character. One who is skilled in the man- 
agement of the feelings never tries to destroy an emotion in an 
instant, but to divert and modify it. Like a powerful stream of 
water, emotion can be drawn into another channel, but it cannot 
be annihilated. All excitement must have its expression, but a 
modiflcation of the emotion may render possible a new and unex- 
pected outlet, 

6. .aEsthetic Emotions. 

Esthetic Emotion is the sentiment that arises in the 
soul as the concomitant of ideas of nature and art. This 
is different from the simple sentience that is produced by 
the contemplation of forms, colors and motions. Esthetic 
sentiment is a highly intellectualized emotion, arising only 
in those who are capable of forming ideas and compre- 
hending their meaning. Our aesthetic emotions may be 
classed according to the qualities that give rise to them. 
On this principle of classification they are as follows : 



SENTIMENTS, 261 

(1) Emotions of the Comical. — These depend princi- 
pally upon the apprehension of some incongruity when 
no harm or danger accompanies it. If actual or possible 
injury results from an incongruity, very different emotions 
are produced, excluding those of the Comical, as Fear, 
Sorrow, Sympathy, etc. For example, if one slips and 
falls when walking confidently along, without injury of 
any kind, it seems comical ; but if one is injured, the 
incongruity of the sprawling figure is not comical. Only 
the heartless can laugh at a misfortune. Emotions of the 
Comical are produced by {a) Humop, {h) Wit, {o) the 
Ludicrous, and {d) the Ridiculous. Humor is a genial 
play of ideas, provoking smiles and laughter. Wit is a 
startling revelation of an unexpected coincidence or re- 
semblance and, when not severe, as it sometimes is, also 
provokes smiles and laughter. ^ The Ludicrous is some- 
thing that we may laugh at without a serious loss of 
respect for it. The Ridiculous is something that we laugh 
at as unreasonable or insignificant. 

The philosophy of the Comical presents a difficult and com- 
plicated subject. Tlie tendency to laugh has been regarded by 
some, as by Hobbes, for example, as resulting from a feeling of 
superiority in ourselves or of contempt for others. This is true in 
the case of the Ridiculous, but, as Coleridge has said, is contrary to 
the facts in other cases.^ Aristotle's definition of the cause of 
laughter is, — surprise at perceiving anything out of place, when the 
unusualness is not accompanied by a sense of serious danger. '* Such 
surprise," adds Coleridge, "is always pleasurable." *° We may safely 
say that incongruity without danger is usually comical, but, as we 
shall see, this requires some limitation. "Why do we smile," says 
Herbert Spencer, " when a child puts on a man's hat ? or what in- 
duces us to laugh on reading that the corpulent Gibbon was unable 
to rise from his knees after making a tender declaration ? The usual 
reply to such questions is, that laughter results from a perception of 



262 PSYCHOLOGY. 

incongruity."" But, as Bain says, "There are many incongruities 
that may produce anything but a laugh. A decrepit man under a 
heavy burden, five loaves and two fishes among a multitude, and all 
unfitness and gross disproportion; an instrument out of tune, a fly 
in ointment, snow in May, Archimedes studying geometry in a siege, 
and all discordant things." ^^ He then notes " degradation " as a 
differentia of the Comical, but, certainly, we laugh at many things 
that involve no degradation. He thinks he finds the real essence of 
the Comical, however, in a ''reaction from the serious." "So in- 
tense," he says, "among the majority of persons is the titillation 
arising from being suddenly set loose from this peculiar kind of 
restraint, that they are willing to be screwed up into the serious 
posture for a moment, in order to luxuriate in the deliverance. The 
comic temperament is probably determined by a natural inaptitude 
for the dignified, solemn, or serious, rendering it especially irksome 
to sustain the attitude of reverence, and very delightful to rebound 
from it." ^^ There is much of this recognizable in our experience of 
the Comical, and yet we cannot identify the Comical with mere lib- 
eration from restraint. "Laughter," as Spencer says, "naturally 
results only when consciousness is unawares transferred from great 
things to small — only when there is what we call a descending incon- 
gruity."^^ As a physical expression, laughter is probably the dis- 
charge of nervous energy gathered for a serious effort and let loose 
along the lines of least resistance, finding vent in the muscular move- 
ments of the vocal and respiratory organs, and finally, if not pre- 
viously expended, in the contortion of the whole body. But there 
may be laughter without the Comical, as in the laughter of hysteria. 
We must look deeper than this for its real cause as an expression of 
the emotions of the Comical. Mivart points out that there are two 
kinds of laughter, " one physical and sensuous, the other intel- 
lectual." ^5 It is with the latter that we have to deal when speaking 
of the emotions of the Comical. These certainly depend upon an 
intellectual apprehension. Spencer cites as an illustration the ar- 
rival of a tame kid upon the stage in the midst of a tragedy, who, 
after staring at the audience, goes up to two reconciled lovers and 
licks their hands. This, he says, is a case of " descending incon- 
gruity." The nervous energy is forced into a " small channel " by 
this incongruity and discharges itself in laughter.*^ But Spencer's 
quantitative terms, "large channels" and "small channels" do not 



SENTIMENTS, . 263 

apply to ideas. The apprehension of the "descending incongruity" 
is a qualitative distinction made by the Intellect. Immediately 
there rises in consciousness an emotion of the Ludicrous and laugh- 
ter follows. How is the qualitative distinction of the '* descending 
incongruity " translated into the movement of nervous energy toward 
a small channel, which it overflows and so expends itself in laugh- 
ter ? If we reply, the mind, expecting a serious and continuous 
exertion, gathers the nervous energy for such an effort, from which 
it suddenly ceases on the perception of the incongruity, leaving the 
accumulated force to expend itself along lines of least resistance, we 
assume that a qualitative distinction in the mind can produce a 
quantitative effect in the nervous system. It certainly cannot be 
believed that the kid on the stage produces any other physical effect 
at this juncture than at another. "We seem, therefore, to have posi- 
tive "evidence that the soul reacts upon the body in an inscrutable 
manner, so that qualitative differences in consciousness produce 
quantitative differences in the nervous system. 

(2) Emotions of the Beautiful. — As we have seen, there 
is a sensuous beauty which produces pleasurable sensations 
(page 236). There is also an ideal beauty, or perfection 
of type, which is apprehended only by the Intellect and 
is not explicable in terms of sensation. Of every kind of 
being there is the perfect type, not necessarily actually 
embodied in any known form, but existent for the Imagi- 
nation. Such a perfect tj^e is called "the ideal." The 
contemplation of it affords a pleasure which we call the 
Emotion of the Beautiful. The realm of the ideal is the 
sphere of Art, which some who can enjoy merely sensuous 
beauty do not appreciate, because they have no ideals. 
Objects in which an ideal type is realized are called 
Beautiful. Those which contain some elements and sug- 
gestions only of the ideal are called Graceful. Those con- 
taining enough of the ideal to constitute r. pleasing picture 
are called Picturesque. The appreciation of ideal beauty 



264 \ PSYGHOLOeY. 

is too intellectual to require marked bodily expression. 
The crude and ignorant are often struck with surprise on 
beholding an embodiment of beauty and give expression 
to their feelings by demonstrations similar to those of 
"Wonder. 

The theories of the nature of beauty are too numerous and com- 
plicated to admit of discussion here, and must be sought in special 
treatises on ^Esthetics." For the psychologist it is sufficient to re- 
solve the emotion of the Beautiful into its constituents, and to deter- 
mine its leading characteristics. Physical objects possess properties 
which affect us agreeably through our superior senses. We recog- 
nize, therefore, a sensuous beauty, or adaptation in things to affect 
us pleasantly through our sense-organs (page 337). But a pleasure 
of a different and higher order is afforded through our apprehension 
of ideas. Plato taught that certain types, or ideas, have existed 
eternally in the divine mind, and that these are absolutely perfect 
(page 142). Such ideas are essentially beautiful, and the embodiment 
of them renders the thing in which they are embodied beautiful. The 
emotions experienced in contemplating these perfect types are the 
emotions of the Beautiful. We may doubt the existence in the mind 
of such absolute and eternal ideas as Plato describes, for we find that 
the typical form of each race of mankind is the model of beauty for 
that race. The Hottentots do not admire the Venus de Medici, and 
Caucasians certainly do not regard a Hottentot Venus as a perfect 
type of womanhood. We may believe, then, that each race forms 
its own idea of a perfect type and that this varies with individuals, 
but we cannot doubt that there exists, for superior minds at least, 
an ideal beauty, which differs from sensuous beauty in being appre- 
hended by the Intellect. From the apprehension of ideals rises the 
aesthetic judgment, which renders possible a theory of art and a sci- 
ence of criticism which can render a reason why one thing is beauti- 
ful and another is not. Analysis shows that aesthetic judgments are 
based on either (1) the intrinsic value of the idea expressed, or (2) the 
adaptation of the means employed to express the idea. Here is a 
foundation for rational art criticism. If ideas have no intrinsic 
value, all pleasure derived from art is merely sensuous. But we 
regard some ideas as intrinsically more important than others. The 



SENTIMENTS. 266 

idea of a man has a higher value than that of a leaf. The picture of 
an ideal man has a higher art-value, that is, if well expressed, has 
more beauty, than that of an ideal leaf. The idea of a perfect face 
is superior to that of a perfect foot. It contains more and nobler 
accessory ideas. It is an index of thought, feeling and character. 
It is a medium of moral and spiritual expression. Again, some 
forms, colors, and proportions are better adapted than others for the 
expression of ideas. All art is purposive, op ieleological. It con- 
veys meaning, and meaning implies an end and a plan for the ac- 
complishment of the end. Art aims to discover elevated and in- 
trinsically valuable ideas, and then to give them the most perfect 
expression. It implies purpose, order, adaptation, idealization. It 
is, therefore, supremely intellectual. Its constructive faculty is 
Imagination. The enjoyment of art also requires the exercise of 
Imagination, in order to interpret the idea of the artist. The me- 
chanical accuracy of photography is not considered artistic, because 
it is blindly reproductive. Mere portrait-painting is not a high form 
of art, although it involves great skill of execution. Historical- 
painting is artistic mainly as it permits the use of Imagination in 
representing a vast and complicated scene in small compass and in 
selecting the proper moment for representation. The difference 
between a realistic imitation of a plate of oysters, even though they 
are so natural as to stimulate the appetite, and Raphael's Sistine 
Madonna, is not one of degree, but one of kind. Imitation is me- 
chanical. Idealization is intellectual. It is idealization which con- 
stitutes the difference between imitative and creative art, between 
sensuous and ideal beauty. The emotions of the beautiful, in the 
proper sense, arise as concomitants of the ideal, which is the product 
of the idealizing process. The ideal derives its character from the 
embodiment of an idea in its typical, perfect, universal form. The 
ideal often suggests the infinite and the eternal, because it is a pure 
idea stripped of the mere accidents of place and time. Hence it 
satisfies all imaginative souls, and it may be truly said, — 

" A thing of beauty is a joy forever." 

(3) Emotions of the Sublime. — The emotions of the 
Sublime are produced, when an idea manifests itself in 
excess of the form through which it is revealed, and so 



266 PSYCHOLOGY, 

expresses unwonted power. The Imagination is thus 
overwhelmed and Phantasy is unable to confine the idea 
to ordinary limits. The lowest form of sublimity is 
Grandeur. Its highest is Awe. The last is akin to Fear, 
and tends to express itself by the external signs of that 
Emotion. 

Vast spatial extent, like that of the ocean, the Alpine mountains, 
and the celestial distances contemplated by the astronomer ; incon- 
ceivable duration, like that of the geological periods and the idea of 
eternity ; irresistible power, like that of the tornado, the avalanche, 
and the volcano ; terrific sounds, like those of the thunder, the tem- 
pest, and the earthquake; incalculable rapidity of movement, like 
that of the engulfing flame of a conflagration, the dash of the sea on 
the rocks, and the flash of lightning ; — all produce the emotions of 
the sublime. So also do great daring and fortitude, especially in 
loyalty to truth or duty, giving rise to the morally sublime; as in 
the calm death of Socrates, the resolution of the Russians to burn 
their capital, and of the Hollanders to flood their country with the 
sea, rather than surrender to their enemies their homes and liberties. 
The sublime does not afford a province for art like that of beauty. 
The finite conditions of portraiture usually divest the sublime idea 
of its overwhelming character. If Successfully represented, it fails 
to impress us, because in a picture time for reflection is possible and 
study suggests the presence of exaggeration, and when this is per- 
ceived "it is but a step from the sublime to the ridiculous." What- 
ever pleasure is derived from the sublime is transitional, and a 
picture or statue which expresses sublimity is liable under contempla- 
tion to appear horrible. If the climax of action is depicted, there is 
no room left for the play of Imagination, and we grow weary both 
of contemplating that crisis which affords no advance to something 
beyond and of beholding a situation which, if real, could not be long 
sustained. Art employs the sublime very sparingly and most suc- 
cessfully only as an offset to beauty. Hints and suggestions of the 
infinite, opportunities for the exercise of Imagination, are sometimes 
effective, as, for example, an endless vista of open clouds, a threat- 
ening storm-cloud over a peaceful landscape, or some other single 
feature. Poetry employs the sublime more freely than pictorial or 



SENTIMENTS. 267 

plastic art, because while these latter can represent but a single, 
momentary situation, which becomes painful if really sublime, 
poetry can narrate a continuous story, and in its progress may 
follow its touches of sublimity with other and more satisfying 
emotions. 

(4) Emotions of the Pathetic. — There is a sentiment 
that arises as the concomitant of our apprehension of the 
evanescence and misfortune of beauty and goodness that 
might very well be called "Esthetic Sorrow/' Its ac- 
cepted name is Pathos. It is this that lends a charm to 
tragedy. It easily becomes mere " sentimentality/' which 
implies an artificial element. 

There is, undoubtedly, a certain aesthetic pleasure in addition to 
plot-interest connected with tragedy as presented on the stage. If 
the same scenes were to occur in real life, they would, if we were in 
a normal condition, shock and pain us. Why do they afford us 
pleasure in a drama ? They are, when dramatically represented, 
connected with scenic and histrionic accessories of great sensuous, 
and sometimes of great ideal, beauty ; they give variety to our feel- 
ings, affording decided contrasts, and, hence, much stimulation to 
our other feelings ; and, being mere make-believes, they give us the 
feeling that even the horrible events of life are, in a sense, mere 
play and illusion. The drama — and this may be said also in part of 
the novel — affords an opportunity for the exercise of such natural 
feelings as Sorrow and Pity, without any real bitterness to us. We 
shed our tears and exercise our sympathies without any real cost. 
It is easy to see how a passion for the Pathetic leads to a hollow 
sentimentalism. Having stirred these deeper emotions by the ficti- 
tious without any result in action, we form the habit of not acting 
when our sympathies are touched by deserving objects. Hence it is 
that we may weep over the beautiful heroine in the play, whose suf- 
ferings and death are known to be a sham, while the realistic beggar 
at the door of the theatre may die of cold or hunger before morning 
without our shedding a tear. Artificial excitation which does not 
lead to action gives to the emotions an artificial character, and this 
is sentimentality. 



268 PSYCHOLOGY, 

7. Ethical Emotions. 

Ethical emotions are those which arise in us on account 
of our relations to Moral Law. In the presence of a law 
known to be just and right we have^ in our normal state, 
sentiments of Reverence for the law, of Obligation to 
obey it, and of Responsibility for not having obeyed it. 
These, when analyzed, are found to be the emotive ac- 
companiments of judgments that it is right to obey the 
law and wrong to violate it. We may distinguish in addi- 
tion the following ethical emotions : 

(1) Emotions of Approval. — There are certain emotions 
which arise when we contemplate obedience to moral law. 
When we reflect upon our own obedience, there arise the 
feelings of Innocence and Self-respect. When we con- 
sider the obedience of others, we entertain toward them 
sentiments of Satisfaction and Respect. 

(2) Emotions of Disapproval. — When we reflect upon 
our own disobedience to moral law, we experience the 
emotions of Guilt and Shame. We know these feelings to 
be degrading to ourselves and hence, in the normal man, 
they induce Sorrow, which accompanies a transition from 
a higher to a lower idea of self-perfection. This, when 
profound, is Remorse, which sometimes leads to Repent- 
ance. The emotions of Guilt and Shame express them- 
selves by blushes, stammering, and other signs of con- 
fusion. The contemplation of moral disobedience in 
others leads to Distrust and Disrespect. 

The relation of Psychology to Ethics, or the science of right 
conduct, is a close and important one. A sound Psychology has 
rendered possible a great advance in the scientific basis and develop- 
ment of Ethics. It is evident that there is no separate faculty 



Called "Conscience," as was formerly believed and taught.'^ Con- 
science is only another name for the Moral Consciousness, or con- 
sciousness applied to moral subjects. It reveals to us (1) a knowledge 
of moral distinctions and of tlie law by which these distinctions of 
"right" and "wrong" are made; (2) an experience of moral senti- 
ments, such as approval and disapproval ; and (3) moral freedom, or 
voluntary choice between right and wrong courses of conduct. Thus 
understood. Ethics is seen to be a real science, deriving its facts from 
the Moral Consciousness. It may be considered as an extension of 
Psychology in a particular direction, the sphere of right conduct, as 
Logic is in the direction of pure thought, and as Esthetics is in the 
direction of higher sensibility. We have the less need to enlarge 
upon this branch of Psychology in a general treatise, because it is 
the exclusive topic of a special study. 

8. Religious Emotions. 

Eeligious emotions are those which arise when we think 
of the Supreme Beings the Author and Preserver of 
Life, as a Living Person. Some form of religion is re- 
garded by naturalists as universal among the races of 
man,^^ and no tribe has been discovered incapable of re- 
ligious education. 20 The ethical emotions are usually 
blended with the religious, though not invariably. The 
emotions awakened by the idea of Deity vary widely, ac- 
cording to the intellectual and moral development of races 
and persons, but the following are characteristic forms of 
religious feeling : 

(1) The Emotion of Dependence. — Every human being 
feels his dependence upon a power outside of and above 
himself. If he believes in the existence of a Personal 
Being who is the Creator and Ruler of the world, this 
feeling prompts him to offer prayers for the divine protec- 
tion and assistance. Sacrifice also, when it is believed to 
be acceptable, is offered, in the hope of propitiating favor. 



270 PSYCHOLOaY, 

Although the origin of religion is usually referred to other than 
emotional grounds by those who have attempted to give an account 
of it, a German theologian, known also as a philosopher, F. E. D. 
Schleiermacher (1768-1834), regarded religion as primarily founded 
upon the feeling of absolute dependence. This view has been ac- 
cepted by others and is assumed by them as the starting-point of the 
philosophy of religion. "The essential germ of the religious life," 
says J. D. Morell, "is concentrated in the absolute feeling of depend- 
ence on infinite power." ^i "The perennial source of religion, opened 
afresh in every new-born soul," says Newman Smyth, "is the feeling 
of absolute dependence. " ^^ Others hold that religion "depends for 
its existence on the essential nature of reason. . . . Before the re- 
ligious feeling acquires the distinctness of a notion and urges to 
conscious action," says D. G. Brinton, "it must assume at least 
three postulates, and without them it cannot rise into cognition. 
These are as follows: I. There is Order in things. II. This order is 
one of Intelligence. III. All Intelligence is one in kind."^^ The 
universality of the laws of thought (page 162), the intellectual neces- 
sity of Absolute and Infinite Being (pages 181, 183) and a First 
Cause (page 198), and the presence of intelligent design in nature 
(pages 190, 197), are grounds on which these three postulates are 
based. The religious emotions are not the cause of religion, but 
effects in the sphere of feeling resulting from religious ideas. The 
starting-point of religion is to be found in the tendency of the human 
mind to explain all phenomena in the terms of personality. This 
tendency seems to be based on the conviction that mind and person- 
ality are manifest everywhere in nature. 

(2) The Emotion of Adoration. — This is the emotion 
which prompts us to worship. It arises in the soul upon 
the contemplation of the power, perfection, benevolence, 
and holiness of the Deity. It is awakened even by certain 
glorious aspects of nature, regarded as expressions of 
personality, which have led to nature-worship. Adoration 
expresses itself through hymns and ascriptions of praise. 

The sun, the sky, the winds, the ocean, the clouds, day, night, 
time, — all seem to the untutored mind to be personal forces, full of 



SENTIMENTS. 271 

life and energy, sometimes kindly favoring, and sometimes malig- 
nantly marring, the plans of men. Hence, they become objects of 
worship. They are propitiated by sacrifices, entreated with prayers, 
honored with shrines and temples (page 125), and the grammatical 
gender of primitive names gives them the semblance of persons, so 
that Imagination weaves about them the vestures of poetry and 
mythology. The play of the Intellect opens a new development of 
religion. The mind finally employs its power of abstraction. It 
fixes attention upon some quality or attribute inherent in concrete 
things, names it, treats it as real, and reasons about it as if it were a 
living thing (pages 147, 148). This concept is then personified, by 
that poetic tendency of the Imagination which impels us to treat the 
creations of thought as if they were living beings; then, finally, 
drawn by the influence that makes the ideal seem superior to the 
real, the mind apotheosizes the concept, and a new deity is added to 
the world's pantheon. The Romans were exceedingly prolific in such 
deifications, surpassing the Greeks, who adhered more closely to a 
modified nature-worship. " They had solemn abstractions mysteri- 
ously governing every human action. The little child was attended 
by over forty gods. Vaticanus taught him to cry ; Fabulinus, to 
speak ; Edusa, to eat ; Potina, to drink ; Abeona conducted him out 
of the house; Interduca guided him on his way; Domiduca led him 
home; and Adonea led him in. So, also, there were deities con- 
trolling health, society, love, anger, and all the passions and virtues 
of men." To one with a far higher idea of Deity than any of these, 
a Great Teacher said: ''Ye worship ye know not what; we know 
what we worship. . . . But the hour cometh, and now is, when the 
true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth : for 
the Father seeketh such to worship him. God is a Spirit : and they 
that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth. "^* 



9. Relations of Emotion and Knowledge. 

While emotion is an accompaniment of ideas and its 
quality is determined by them, it also reflects a powerful 
influence on the intellectual processes. Some forms of 
this influence are as follows : 

(1) Emotion antagonizes present Knowledge. — As we 



272 PSYGBOLOGY. 

have seen (page 26), feeling and knowing are, in a man- 
ner, opposed. An emotional state is not favorable to 
sharp intellectual discrimination. In proportion to the 
intensity of the emotion, the attention is distracted from 
mental processes. Sound judgment requires the absence 
of excitement. 

(2) Emotion stimulates us fop future Knowledge. — Al- 
though emotion is unfavorable to knowledge at the time 
when it is experienced, it affords a stimulus to intellectual 
activity which is necessary to produce or avoid, according 
as it is pleasant or unpleasant, a future recurrence of the 
emotion. The joy of discovery becomes an impulse to 
investigation ; sorrow over failure prompts us to more 
intense activity. Pride is a powerful incentive to knowl- 
edge. 

(3) Emotion affords a bond between forms of past 
Knowledge. — This has been already mentioned (page 75). 
Any intense experience of emotion is likely to be remem- 
bered, and serves to recall previous knowledge. The 
emotion of surprise on perceiving a new or strange object, 
is frequently so marked as to afford a strong link of associ- 
ation. Herein, in part, lies the power of novelty to fix 
ideas in the mind. Grief is often so associated with a 
place where it has been experienced, that images of it are 
revived whenever the feeling is repeated. 

(4) Emotion furnishes a powerful impulse to Imagina- 
tion.— We imagine most when under the influence of 
excitement. Hope and fear stir the soul to new and un- 
usual combinations of ideas. In a hopeful frame of mind, 
we imagine everything to be more favorable to us than it 
really is ; in a condition of fear, we imagine everything to 
be less favorable. The emotional periods of life are the 



SENTIMENTS. 273 

imaginative periods. The air-castles of the hopeful youth 
and the romantic dreams of the entranced lover are crea- 
tions of an Imagination moved by emotion. The aesthetic 
emotions stir Imagination to activity in pursuit of the 
ideal. 

" The poet's eye, in aflne/remy rolling, 
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, 
And, as Imagination bodies forth 
The form of things unknown, the poet's pen 
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation and a name." 

(5) Emotion is the principal cause of Interest. — If ob- 
jects and ideas produced no feelings of pleasure or pain in 
us, we should be indifferent to them. The word " inter- 
est" (from the Latin inter, between, and est, is) signifies 
that there is something between the person " interested ^' 
and the thing which '^'^ interests,^' which can be expressed 
in terms of feeling. What produces no feeling in us, 
directly or indirectly, we treat with indifference. 

(6) Emotion is a source of intellectual Prejudice. — A 
learner is likely to regard as useless a study which he finds 
very difficult. Whatever gratifies us, we readily regard as 
harmless; and whatever pains us, we naturally consider 
injurious. We have a tendency to believe that what is 
beautiful is also innocent. The consistent seems true, 
even whe . its reality is not proved, because both consist- 
ency ana truth produce a feeling -of harmony. Inharmoni- 
ous emotions being often associated with inconsistent 
ideas, we at last regard our state of feeling as a standard 
of judgment without examining the facts, and this is the 
very meaning of prejudice. 

Herbart considered pleasure and pain as the results of the inter- 
action of ideas (representations) ; pleasure being the result of further- 



274 PSYCHOLOGY. 

ance, pain, of hindrance, in their combinations. If this were true, 
all harmonious intellectual activity would be pleasurable, all con- 
flicting, mental operations, painful ; and this, to a certain extent, we 
find to be the case. We may discover abundant illustrative ex- 
amples. There is a certain painfulness attending a confused con- 
versation, in which many persons are speaking on various topics at 
one time. A similar feeling arises from the conflict of assertions 
with facts, of assertions with one another, or of apparent facts ; from 
questions of personal duty, when opposite courses of conduct seem 
to be right; from the contradictory wishes, sentiments, and judg- 
ments of friends ; and from every description of mental confusion. 



10. Relation of Emotion to Education. 

Emotion, as we have just seen, is obstructive of think- 
ing at the moment when it exists/ and yet it may be 
employed as a motive to mental action. From this point 
of view, Emotion has an important bearing upon educa- 
tion. Its prominence as a constituent of all psychical life 
also, and especially of happiness, gives it a place in every 
well-considered plan of development. We shall confine 
ourselves here to the following topics : (1) The emotive 
nature of children, (2) the emotive treatment of the 
learner, (3) the emotive influence of the environment, (4) 
the emotive influence of instruction, and (5) the emotive 
effects of practice. 

(1) The Emotive Nature of Children. — The first condi- 
tion of success in teaching is a comprehension of the 
emotive nature of the learner. In children the emotions 
have a marked spontaneity, mobility, and intensity. All 
young children are timid and impressible. Self -regulation 
is impossible to them, and they surrender themselves to 
every breath of influence. Without much power of volun- 
tary attention, their whole souls are delivered to the feel- 



SENTIMENTS. 275 

ings. of the moment, and from this cause also they are 
capable of the most rapid transitions of emotion. They 
are quick to sympathize with what they understand, but 
this is very little beyond what they can observe. They 
have small experience of consequences. Hence, they are 
plastic to every touch of feeling exhibited by those about 
them and respond readily to personal moods and to the 
changes of the environment in which they live. 

(2) The Emotive Treatment of the Learner. — The emo- 
tional mood of the teacher is certain to impress the learner 
both consciously and unconsciously. The only true master 
of others is one who is first master of himself. Both 
sympathy and antipathy combine to affect the emotional 
influence of a teacher. Sympathy, even when not volun- 
tary, will lead the pupil to reflect the emotional states of 
the teacher, whatever they are ; and antipathy will serve 
to alienate the learner, not only from the person of the 
teacher but from all the occupations that he may exact. 
Thus, a disagreeable teacher may produce in the pupil a 
positive dislike for study. The worriments incidental to 
the work of teaching are not infrequently the cause of 
irritation and unhappiness in the teacher, which are at 
once reflected by every sensitive pupil in his presence. 
When authority is made to rest mainly on fear, rather 
than on hope of approbation and mutual sympathy in 
labor, not only does antipathy rise between instructor and 
instructed, but an emotional element is present which is 
depressing to both mind and body, and friction consumes 
the energy which should be used for intellectual action. 
The wise teacher values cheerfulness, not only as a condi- 
tion of effective work, but on account of its cumulative 
effect upon happiness and character. There is much 



276 PSYClIOLOaT. 

truth in Sydney Smith's saying, '^11 you make children 
happy now^ you will make them happy twenty years 
hence, by the memory of it." There is even a deeper 
truth in the thought that sunshine induces the throwing 
open of the cloak which the storm prompts us to gather 
about us for protection ; and thus we are enabled to win 
the spontaneous trust and admiration which welcome our 
influence to the learner's heart. The more delicately we 
treat the sensibilities of children, the more refined do they 
become ; the more rudely, the more blunted. A coarse 
teacher makes a coarse child. It is possible to produce 
such a condition of sensibility among pupils that a word 
of disapproval is a sufficient punishment ; and it is also 
possible to produce such a state that loud scolding and 
perpetual blows are wholly ineffectual in maintaining even 
the rudiments of order. What proceeds from reason and 
gentleness inspires reasonableness and love; what pro- 
ceeds from irritation and physical force provokes irritation 
and a physical response. Ideas abide and react upon 
conduct ; blows sting for a moment and leave little behind 
but fear and resentment. 

(3) The Emotive Influence of the Environment.— For 
the child, more than for adults, all things have faces and 
voices. The surroundings very soon impress the opening 
soul. Next to the teacher's own healthfulness of senti- 
ment, the inanimate objects, the daily companionships, 
and the social atmosphere which surround the learner 
affect his emotional nature. In many cases this influence 
of the environment is the stronger. Not only his egoistic, 
but also his aesthetic, ethical, and religious emotions take 
their hue from it. Therefore, beauty should be present 
in every practicable form and should be interpreted and 



SENTIMENTS. 277 

impressed upon the mind ; the demoralizing example of 
rude manners and conduct should be excluded at least 
from the teacher^s province ; and all contact with impurity 
should be guarded against. It is difficult to produce re- 
fined sensibilities in an environment where the aesthetic 
and moral standards are low. 

(4) The Emotive Influence of Instruction. — It is im- 
portant to estimate justly the value of abstract instruction 
in its effect upon the emotions. As we have seen (page 
253), the mere exhortation to feel does not make us feel. 
The more of reasoning, the less of emotion. Esthetic or 
moral theories do not awaken aesthetic or ethical emo- 
tions. Mere precepts do not, therefore, touch the springs 
of the emotive life. Concrete realities, or ideas represent- 
ing them, are necessary to elicit feeling. An example of 
beauty, of justice, of tenderness, of forgiveness, deepens 
and quickens the corresponding emotion. Therefore, 
beautiful objects, just actions, tender attentions, forgiving 
treatment, have a higher emotional value than any doc- 
trines, however sound. A single lovely picture or a well- 
told story of a good man^s deed outweighs much exhorta- 
tion in producing a cultivated taste or a more sensitive 
conscience. 

(5) The Emotive Effeet of Practice. — We have seen 
how emotions are excited by doing that which is express- 
ive of them (page 254). This suggests a truth of great 
educational value. The secret of emotional training lies 
in practice. We develop the emotions which we call into 
exercise. An interest in art is awakened by imitation 
and production. A few lessons in drawing may do much 
to open the mind to the discovery and appreciation of 
beauty. The wrongness of an action is best emphasized. 



278 PSTCHOLOGT. 

not when one has performed it^ but when he has suffered 
from it. The victim of a blow, of a falsehood, of a theft, 
is in a position to feel a strong disapproval of the act. 
The wise teacher loses no opportunity to deepen the sense 
of duty through the consciousness of right. 

A very full account of the emotional psychology of small children 
may be found in Bernard Perez' " The First Three Years of Child- 
hood." The chapters on *'The Sentiments" and "The Esthetic 
Sense in Little Children " contain many curious facts. There is, 
however, room for the indulgence of an almost irresistible tendency 
to read theories into the observed facts, many of which, without 
doubt, admit of two or more explanations. The dangers of infer- 
ence here are similar to those in the allied realm of interpreting 
animal feelings. As Max Miiller has said : " If there is danger from 
Menagerie Psychology, there is still greater danger from Nursery 
Psychology. Nothing is more common among psychologists than to 
imagine that they can study the earliest processes in the formation 
of the human mind by watching the awakening mental powers of a 
child. The illustrations taken from the nursery are not perhaps 
quite so fanciful as those collected from menageries, but they have 
often done more mischief, because they sound so much more 
plausible." ^^ A very full discussion of the emotions in relation to 
education is to be found in Bain's "Education as a Science," 
Chapter III. The treatment suffers from a bad classification of the 
feelings, in which emotions, desires, and affections are confused. 
"That which also warps the theoretical views of Mr. Bain," says 
Compayre in his "History of Pedagofy," "is that he accords no in- 
dependence, no individual life, to the mind; and that, for him, back 
of the facts of consciousness, there come to view, without any inter- 
medium, the cerebral organs." ^e jjain also conceives of moral 
training as inspired by the penal code. Still, there are many valu- 
able hints to be obtained from this work, especially from the treat- . 
ment of fear and the evils worked by it. Herbert Spencer's chapter 
on "Moral Education "in his "Education: Intellectual, Moral, 
and Physical," has many helpful ideas, but his doctrine of punish- 
ment, based on "the penal discipline of nature," leads to practical 
absurdity. It is simply the rule that punishment should consist 



SENTIMENTS, 279 

entirely of consequences! The "penal discipline of nature" inflicts 
the gravest consequences for the slightest faults, as where a man 
slips and breaks his neck. Herbert Spencer's doctrine of punish- 
ment would permit boys to fall from high places, to breathe bad air, 
to poison their blood by the use of tobacco, and take the consequences, 
which he fancies would be more wise and just than the employment. 
of artificial punishments. The instincts of a father on this point 
are worth a thousand-fold more than the reasoning, in this case 
thoroughly fallacious, of a philosopher who never had to choose 
between administering an artificial punishment and seeing his boy 
break his neck! 



In this section, on "Emotion," we have consid- 
ered :— 

1, The Nature of Emotion, 

2, The Expression of Emotion, 

3, TJie Production of Emotion, 

4, Kinds of Emotion, 

5, Egoistic Emotions, 

6, jEsthetic Emotions, 

7, Ethical Emotions, 

8, Meligious Emotions, 

9, Melations of Emotion and Knowledge, 
10, Relation of Em^otion to Education, 

References : (1) Darwin's Expression of the Emotions in Man 
and Animals, pp. 28, 29. (2) James' article on "What is an Emo- 
tion ? " in Mind, April, 1884, p. 188 et seq. See also a criticism by 
Edmund Gurney, in Mind, July, 1884, p. 421 et seq. (3) Miiid, 
April, 1884, pp. 197, 198. (4) Bell's Anatomy and Philosophy of 
Expression, p. 172. (5) Warner's Physical Expression, pp. 201, 202. 
(6) Darwin's Expression of the Emotions, pp. 263, 264. (7) Id., p. 
310. (8) For a well illustrated distinction between Wit and Humor, 
see E. P. Whipple's Literature and Life, p. 84 et seq. (9) Cole- 
ridge's Table Talk, p. 285. (10) Id. (11) Spencer's Illustrations of 
Universal Progress, p. 194. (12) Bain's The Emotions and the Will, 
pp. 247, 248. (13) Id., p. 251. (14) Spencer's Universal Progress, 
p, 256. (15) St. George Mivart's article on "Laughter," in I7ie 



280 PSTGHOLOGT, 

Forurriy July, 1887, p. 495. (16) Spencer's Universal Progress, p. 
204. (17) For a short account of Esthetic Theories, see Day's 
Science of Esthetics, Chapter VII. (18) For detailed reasons for 
regarding Conscience as not a separate faculty, see Hopkins' The 
Law of Love, pp. Ill, 115; and Porter's Elements of Moral Science, 
pp. 244, 245. (19) Quatrefage's The Human Species, pp. 482, 483. 
(20) Mivart's Lessons from Nature, pp. 140, 141. (21) Morell's The 
Philosophy of Heligion, p. 94. (22) Smyth's The Religious Feeling, 
p. 34. (23) Brinton's The Religious Sentiment, p. 89. (24) The 
Oospel according to St. John, iv : 22, 24. (25) MuUer's Science of 
Thought, I., p. 22. (26) Compayre's History of Pedagogy (Payne's 
Translation), p. 561. 



8EGTI0N !!♦ 

DESIRE. 
1. Nature of Desire. 



Desire (from the Latin desiderdre, to miss, to long for) 
is the sentiment of craving, impelling us to gain posses- 
sion of that which will afford satisfaction. It is an indi- 
cation of the self -insufficiency of our nature. Desire may 
be resolved into three elements : (1) consciousness of want, 
(2) consequent restlessness, and (3) longing for satisfac- 
tion. Desires are to elementary feelings what representa- 
tive knowledge is to presentative. The consciousness of 
want results from reproducing in the mind ideas associ- 
ated with an object that has the power of giving pleasure. 
If these ideas are not reproduced, desires do not arise. 
For example, a certain pleasure attends the possession 
and use of money. The idea of money is associated with 
its ability to afford pleasure ; hence, on the appearance of 



SENTIMENTS. 281 

the idea, there arises an accompanying desire to possess 
and use it. The opposite of Desire is Aversion (from the 
Latin a, from, and verier e, to turn), a feeling of loathing 
which arises from ideas associated with pain. 

The close connection between a representative idea and a desire is 
evident. We do not desire that of which there is no idea in our 
minds, although there is in us a general craving for change and for 
new experiences. But the moment anything is suggested with which 
pleasure is associated, a desire for it is created, if we are in a condi- 
tion to enjoy it. The actual perception of such an object also pro- 
duces a desire. It is, however, through representation that the de- 
sire is awakened ; for, until the power of an object to give pleasure 
has been experienced, there is no desire for it. The child cares more 
for bright pennies than for bank-notes, because the coins afford him 
a kind of sensuous delight by their form, lustre, and metallic jingle. 
Later on, when he discovers that a bank-note has many times the 
purchasing-power of small coin, a desire for the notes is produced. 
Thus, universally, a desire proceeds from the association of pleasure 
with an object, and this is effected through the association of ideas. 
Even when our desires are excited through the persuasion of others, 
our representative ideas are appealed to as the grounds of the desire. 
The whole art of persuasion consists in awakening desires through 
such ideas. One wholly incapable of pleasure from anything would 
have no desires. He might, however, have aversions, if he were 
susceptible of pains. If capable of neither pleasure nor pain, he 
would be indifferent to everything. This condition is illustrated in 
those who through disease have lost the power of feeling. 

2. Kinds of Desire. 

A precise distinction of the different kinds of Desire is 
difficult. The best practical classification is that which 
groups them in two main classes : (1) those having refer- 
ence to self alone, called Personal Desires ; and (2) those 
having reference to self in relation to other persons, and 
called Social Desires, 



282 PSYCHOLOGY. 

Two antithetical terms have lately come into general use to indi- 
cate the opposite ideas of desires centring on self and desires centring 
on other persons. Egoism (from the Latin Ugo, I) signifies selfish- 
ness, and Altruism (from the Latin alter, another) signifies interest 
in the welfare of others. In using the terms " personal desires " and 
" social desires," it is not here intended to denote these opposite ideas 
marked by the terms ** Egoism " and "Altruism." The terms " per- 
sonal" and "social" are employed to distinguish the desires which 
arise apart from other persons from those that arise in relation to 
other persons. Even the desires here called * ' social " may be ego- 
istic, and the desires here called " personal" may be altruistic. A 
mother's ambition for her son, or a friend's ambition for a friend, is 
altruistic. The character of a desire is not changed by the personal 
reference of it. The same desires may be egoistic or altruistic, ac- 
cording as they are entertained for one's own self, or, through sym- 
pathy, in behalf of another person. " Since we can interpret others' 
experience only by our own, a broad and intense ego-life is the con- 
dition of any full and deep social life. It is only in our own con- 
sciousness that the meaning and value of life and its experiences can 
be revealed ; and without the knowledge of these there can be no 
sympathy for others and no understanding of them. Selfishness 
does not consist in valuing ourselves, but in ignoring the equal 
claims and rights of others." * 

3. The Personal Desires. 

Tlie forms of Desire having reference to self alone are 
as follows : 
(1) Desire of continued Existence, or Seif-ppesepvation. 

—The idea of personal destruction is disagreeable to most 
minds. The wish that one might cease to be, is never 
entertained, except in abnormal states of mind or body, 
and may be regarded as an indication of disease or in- 
sanity. The desire to live, even in the discomforts of the 
present life, is almost universal. The desire of immor- 
tality is one of the strongest in the soul. The pessimist, 
who regards life as a burden, is rarely found ; and, when 



SENTIMENTS. 283 

found, the proposition to kill him usually cures him. 
Normal men are practical optimists ; and, though they 
may believe that life might be more agreeable than they 
find it, they value it sufficiently to cling to it hopefully, 
and strive to make it more desirable. 

If all men were really pessimists (from the Latin pessimus, the 
worst), quite hopeless of good, the human species would soon 
come to an end by voluntary self-destruction. But pessimism is 
merely occasional and temporary. It is largely a matter of passing 
mood. It has been well said that it rests entirely upon the crude 
fallacy of regarding the evil that is in one's self as evil inherent in the 
nature of the world. It is a malady that rarely affects any but the 
intensely selfish and conceited. It results from a diseased sub- 
jectivism of thought and feeling. This is historically demonsti-able 
from the biographies of pessimists. The certain cure of it is a health- 
ful objective activity and especially a sympathetic exertion to dimin- 
ish the sufferings of other people. We thereby forget our own and 
lighten their sorrows, and, in the joy of an approving conscience and 
the gratitude of those whom we assist, discover a preponderance of 
happiness over misery. 

(2) Desire of Pleasure, or Self-indulgence. — Man has 

the power of generalizing his agreeable states into a con- 
cept of pleasure, and ends by making pleasure in general 
an object of desire. Ideas of pleasure differ widely, from 
that of the mere sensualist who finds his chief good in 
bodily sensations, to that of the philosopher who finds it 
in the pursuit of truth and the performance of duty. It 
is natural to man to- seek such objects as give him inno- 
cent pleasure, and the desire for pleasure in some form is 
universal. Man deludes himself, however, in seeking 
pleasure in the abstract. In this form it does not exist. 
Therefore, by making pleasure an object of pursuit one 
never realizes it. 



284 PSYCHOLOGY, 

A wise and experienced American teacher, Francis Wayland 
(1796-1865), has said: "Our desire for a particular object, and the 
existence of the object adapted to this desire, is in itself a reason 
why we should enjoy that object, in the same manner as our aversion 
to another object is a reason why we should avoid it. There may 
sometimes be, it is true, other reasons to the contrary, more authori- 
tative than that emanating from this desire or aversion, and these 
may and ought to control it ; but this does not show that this desire 
is not a reason, and a sufficient one, if no better reason can t)e shown 
to the contrary. , . . We find by experience that a desire or appe- 
tite may be so gratified as forever afterwards to destroy its power of 
producing happiness. Thus, a certain kind of food is pleasant to 
me ; this is a reason why I should partake of it. But I may eat of 
it to excess, so as to loathe it forever afterwards, and thus annihilate 
in my constitution this power of gratification. . . . Again, every 
man is created with various and dissimilar forms of desire, corre- 
spondent to the different external objects designed to promote his 
happiness. Now, it is found that one form of desire may be grati- 
fied in such manner as to destroy the power of receiving happiness 
from another ; or, on the contrary, the first may be so gratified as 
to leave the other powers of receiving happiness unimpaired. . . . 
Hence, while it is the truth that human happiness consists in the 
gratification of our desires, it is not the whole truth. It consists in 
the gratification of our desires within the limits assigned to them hy 
our Creator.'''"^ 

(3) Desire of Knowledge, or Curiosity. — This is a power- 
fill desire, but varies in both form and intensity. In some 
individuals it is dominant, leading to the sacrifice of most 
other objects, as in the case of those investigators who are 
animated by a strong desire for truth in its scientific forms. 
In some it degenerates into a low inquisitiveness that is 
without interest in eternal truth, but finds satisfaction in 
the excitement and novelty of the most trivial gossip. 

Curiosity is the first spur of childhood in the pursuit of knowledge, 
and it is also the impulse that impels the philosopher to forego all 
other pleasures for the sake of discovering truth. It assumes, how- 



SENTIMENTS. 285 

ever, great modification with the unfolding of the mind. In the 
child, doubtless, the pleasure of a novel sensation is a large element 
in curiosity. The tendency to investigate is manifested so early, 
however, that it seems an instinct in young children to obtain and 
open and examine every new thing. The same disposition is mani- 
fested in apes and monkeys, but it ends with small results. In man 
this instinct combines with a rational nature, and he finds a satis- 
faction in the discovery of truth as such. This is the trait of scien- 
tific curiosity. But even this is intimately blended with other de- 
sires. The love of adventure, a desire for variety of experience, 
the expectation of fame, even the hope of pecuniary rewards, all 
combine with the pure and unselfish desire for truth in actuating 
men to undertake laborious investigations. All this is shown in the 
boasting of explorers, the vacillation of discoverers, the jealousy of 
writers, the litigation of inventors, and the controversial spirit that 
so often spoils scientific work. The consentient judgment of men 
awards high appreciation to a sincere devotion to truth for its own 
sake in which even this appreciation has not been a controlling 
motive. 

(4) Desire of Ppoperty, or Acquisitiveness, is a promi- 
nent desire in men. There is a keen satisfaction in ex- 
clusive proprietorship. Property, especially in the form 
of money, which is a kind of generalized form of wealth, 
is in a sense a generic good, inasmuch as there are few 
kinds of pleasure which it cannot obtain. Hence, men 
make great sacrifices in the acquisition of it, sometimes 
degrading themselves to obtain it, and sometimes only to 
find that in the process of acquisition they have destroyed 
the capacities of enjoyment. 

In the miser, acquisitiveness degenerates into avarice. The miser 
is a psychological anomaly, and yet not diflicult to explain. He be- 
gins with the idea of pleasure as an accompaniment of the use of 
money. He experiences a pleasure in mere possession which, as af- 
fording the continual possibility of pleasure, at last comes to be the 
dominant pleasure itself. Every new augmentation of wealth in- 



286 PSYCHOLOar. 

creases this pleasure, but not in the same proportion, up to a certain 
point, hut there it ceases. According to a psycho-physical law, a pro- 
gressively greater increment of excitation is required to increase in the 
same degree the amount of feeling. As a man with a single dollar 
feels more pleasure in adding to his possessions another dollar than a 
man worth a million does, so, universally, a greater and greater in- 
crement of gain is required with the increase of wealth to render one 
happy. Attending now mainly to the growth of his fortune, rather 
than to the amount or use of it, the raiser actually feels poorer as he 
becomes richer ! Thus his happiness is turned into misery, and his 
very name denotes his wretchedness. For this there is but one cure, 
the normal use of wealth as a means for its natural end, — the increase 
of life and happiness. 

(5) Desire of Power, or Ambition. — There is a certain 
satisfaction found in the possession of power, that leads 
men to desire it. Position, or place, sometimes affords 
men an opportunity to acquire and exercise power, and, 
for this reason, becomes an object of desire. The word 
^'Ambition " is from the Latin amlitio, a going around, 
especially of candidates for office in Rome, to solicit votes ; 
hence it has come to signify a desire for office or honor. 

4. The Social Desires. 

The principal desires arising through our relation to 
other persons are : 
(1) Desire of Companionship, or Sociability. — Man is a 

social being. In truth, it is because of his existence, in 
society that he is man. The individual, left to himself, 
in infancy, would perish ; in mature life, would degen- 
erate. Most of the comforts of life and all of its refine- 
ments are afforded by the social state. The instrument 
of thought, language, is a social product. The faculties 
are stimulated and directed by contact with other minds. 



SENTIMENTS, 287 

Society is the sphere in which the affections have their 
origin. The hermit soon reverts to an animal plane of 
life. Hence, in all normal minds, there is a strong desire 
for the social medium, which is to the mind what air and 
food are to the body. 

"Man is naturally selfish, and naturally social and sympathetic. 
There is provision in our nature both for selfishness and for society 
and mutual help. The whim that the natural state of man is the 
war of all against all was the conclusion of a theory rather than the 
expression of experience. Man seeks man and delights in man far 
more than man wars upon man. This primal man who reasoned 
himself into society is a near relative of the men who emergecL from 
inhuman isolation and made the social contract which figured so 
largely in th« political philosophy of the last century. The real 
function of the various considerations of interest and mi-.tual advan- 
tage which are appealed to, has not been to develop the social senti- 
ments, but to extend their application beyond na^irow family or 
tribal limits." 3 

(2) Desire of Imitation, or Imitativeness. — Man is an 

imitative being, finding great satisfaction in doing what 
others do. This desire is always manifested in children, 
and is an important factor of their education. The power 
of public opinion, custom, and fashion, is an evidence of 
the prevalence of this desire among men. 

The tendency to imitate is deeply ingrained in human nature. It 
has a physiological foundation. There is an organic sympathy in 
the different parts of the nervous system, so that when one part is 
affected all are indirectly influenced. This extends beyond the 
organism. The sight of a ghastly wound is painful. Ideas react 
upon the organism. This is particularly true of the imitation of 
motions.. The smile or yawn of another tends to excite imitation in 
us. Children respond to the sounds made by animals, and mimic 
the cries of cats, dogs, and sheep. This is the basis on which artic- 
ulate language is first acquired. The child imitates the sounds of 



288 PSYCHOLOGt. 

others about it and learns the kind of language that is spoken in its 
presence. We all try to imitate those whom we consider superior. 
The superficial peculiarities and accidental traits of great orators 
and writers are more easily acquired than their native intellectual 
or emotional power, and it is the former which the young admirer is 
most likely to reproduce. The power of fashion depends largely 
upon the desire to appear like those who occupy an exalted position 
in our eyes. The most absurd extravagances appear even beautiful 
when associated with wealth, or beauty, or supposed culture. Un- 
derlying this, there is a plausible philosophy. We think that people 
who can do what they will, would not do this particular thing if it 
were not the best. Therefore, we do as others do. 

(3) Desire of Esteem, or Approbativeness. — Men are 

largely influenced by the opinions of others concerning 
them. The respect of our fellows is a natural object of 
desire, and results in the development of some of the 
noblest elements in human character. The consentient 
opinions of the wise and good form a valuable criterion of 
conduct. We easily make the mistake of regarding also 
the opinions of the foolish and vicious. As mere opinion 
does not contain a rule of judgment, we must seek it else- 
where. The sacrifices men make for the sake of a good 
reputation show that it is considered one of the dearest of 
earthly possessions. 

Perhaps there is no stronger desire in men than the desire of fame. 

It is not a desire of territory but of glory that stimulates the soldier 
to endure the hardships and face the dangers of war. Man is the 
only earthly being capable of the desire of posthumous fame, or 
glory after death. It seems impossible to account for this wide- 
spread and intense human desire except upon the supposition that 
men instinctively believe in their own immortal existence. Like all 
the other desires, the desire for esteem easily assumes abnormal 
forms, and perhaps the most ridiculous of these is the desire of no- 
toriety, apart from the estimate put upon it in the public conscious- 



SENTIMENTS, ^89 

ness. But mere notoriety serves so many purposes, some of them 
purely sordid, that the desire for it is not difficult to understand. 

(4) Desire of Superiority, or Emulation. — This is closely 
allied to Ambition, but differs from it in being a desire for 
relative rather than absolute attainment. It is a powerful 
motive to action, urging on the naturally indolent, but 
also over-stimulating the industrious. It is often attended 
with great excitement, and so becomes one of the most 
dangerous principles in our nature. 

5. Desire and Will. 

Desire arises spontaneously in consciousness when ideas 
associated with pleasure are presented. It is an involun- 
tary accompaniment of mental activity. And yet the de- 
sires are indirectly under the control of the Will. It is 
upon this assumption alone that desires can have any rela- 
tion to morality. Such a relation they certainly have, for 
we distinguish between what ought and what ought not 
to be desired. We control our desires only by a voluntary- 
withdrawal of the attention from those ideas which excite 
them and by refusing to grant them indulgence when 
excited. 

6. Desire and f]ducation. 

Desire has even a closer relation to education than Emo- 
tion, for the desires constitute the principal incentives to 
action. As in the case of the appetites, so in that of the 
emotions, there is a perpetual battle between self-indul- 
gence in present pleasures, on the one hand, and such de- 
sires as those of knowledge, power, esteem, and superiority, 
on the other. The growth of the desires soon results in 



290 PSYCHOLOGY, 

the formation of one of two types of character, — the self- 
satisfied or the ambitious. The first needs to be stimu- 
lated along the path of activity, the second often requires 
to be repressed. The great disadvantage of all competi- 
tive methods is, that the dull and unaspiring minds are 
not reached by them, while the ambitious, who often need 
repression more than stimulation, are spurred on to un- 
healthful activity and a still more unhealthful feeling 
either of envy and hatred, if they are unsuccessful, or of 
pride and contempt for others, if they are successful. 
We shall limit our discussion to (1) the educational use 
of the desires, and (2) the regulation of the desires. 

(1) The Educational Use of the Desires. — The whole 
process of education assumes the existence of certain na- 
tive impulses which respond to stimulation. The native 
curiosity of a child affords the teacher some hope of being 
able to attract his attention and engage his interest. Every 
wise teacher begins a new subject by establishing a relation 
between the child's native curiosity and the facts and prin- 
ciples to be disclosed, unless it can be already assumed to 
exist. The chief difficulty is not in obtaining, but in 
holding, the attention ; for a thousand irrelevant desires 
come into conflict with the child's interest in what is pre- 
sented. Here other desires must be utilized, such as de- 
sire of imitation, approbation, and emulation. The aver- 
sions, or negative desires, have their place also ; as the 
aversion to pain in every form, to the inability to do as 
others do, to disapprobation, and to t^e sense of inferi- 
ority. In the use of desires and aversions there is wide 
scope for the teacher's personal ingenuity and tact ; for, 
owing to the great variation of temperaments, no uniform 
method is universally good. 



SENTIMENTS. 291 

(2) The Regulation of the Desires.— Like the appetites, 
the desires must be governed and made to conform to 
reason. Their regulation cannot be accomplished by their 
destruction ; for this is next to impossible, and in the case 
of the natural desires, would result in a serious mutilation 
of the nature ; but they may be made to balance one an- 
other, and so produce an equilibrium of character. It is 
this harmonious balance of desires that constitutes the 
ideal man. The total eradication of the desires, even of 
those we call ^'selfish,^^ would result in a serious injury. 
Not to desire existence, |)leasure, knowledge, property, or 
power,— would be to become pessimistic, ascetic, ignorant, 
improvident and servile. Not to desire society, con- 
formity to others, approval, or superiority, — would be to 
become isolated, eccentric, despicable and inferior. True 
Altruism is not found in destroying our natural desires, 
and true Egoism does not consist in the gratification of 
them. The highest humanity is reached when the de- 
sires are moderated and transfused with reason, and when 
the equal claims of others to the same reasonable gratifi- 
cation of their desires also is unselfishly recognized. 

The relative values of private and class instruction, the proper 
mode of stimulating ambition and of employing emulation, and the 
utility of various systems of marking the work of learners, are 
closely associated with the psychology of the desires. Private in- 
struction has the advantage of affording more opportunity for per- 
sonal acquaintance with the student and specific comprehension of 
his needs ; while class instruction has the advantages that come from 
greater enthusiasm, the imitation by the backward of those in ad- 
vance, of competition among the pupils for preeminence and for the 
teacher's approval. The danger of emulation has been already 
pointed out. Some of its impulses may be obtained without its 
intense personal effects by matching one class with another and not 



292 PSYCHOLOGY. 

allowing individual superiority to count. This method creates a 
strong desire for distinction, which is, nevertheless, largely sympa- 
thetic and altruistic, as it is shared by all. It is difficult to see any 
objection to fixing a standard to which all must attain, in order to 
be passed to higher study. Although there are intrinsic difficulties 
in representing this standard by a fixed number, there seems to be 
no valid objection to a teacher's employing such a sign, for he must 
in some way fix this standard in his mind. The keeping of a daily 
record is far more likely to secure justice than a single mark de- 
pendent upon the contingencies of a single examination. The main 
objection to a " marking-system " seems to be to its relative dis- 
criminations, not to its absolute nature. The motive of the learner, 
all will admit, should be to acquire knowledge, not to secure a high 
mark; but any objection that lies against marking the student's at- 
tainments might equally well lie against the teacher's mere announce- 
ment that the student is promoted. The mark and the announce- 
ment mean the same, — that the student may go on with higher 
work. It is the odious comparison involved in published grades 
that produces evil effects. 

In this section, on "Desire," we have considered: 

1, The Nature of Desire, 

2, Kinds of Desire, 

3, The Personal Desires, 

4, The Social Desires, 

5, Desire and Will, 

6, Desire and Education, 

References : (1) Bowne's Introduction to Psychological Theory, 
p. 195. (3) Wayland's Moral Science, pp. 101, 103. (3) Bowne's 
Introduction, p. 196. 



SENTIMENTS, 293 

SECTIOIT III* 

AFFECTION. 

1. Nature of Affection. 

Affection (from the Latin ad, to, and facere, to make) 
is a form of sentiment implying a making toward, or go- 
ing out to, an object. Like Desire, it has an object out- 
side of self ; but, unlike Desire, it reveals a fullness, not 
an emptiness, of our nature. It may be resolved into 

(1) a consciousness of benevolent or malevolent feeling, 

(2) generated by the idea of a definite object, (3) toward 
which the feeling is directed. For example, take a 
mother^s Affection for her child. It is not simply an 
Emotion, for it has a definite external object. It is not 
simply a Desire, though it may be blended with desires, 
for it is not so much a craving for the child as it is a full- 
ness of feeling going out toward the child. Its distin- 
guishing characteristic is that it is a particular sentiment 
directed toward a definite object. 

All deep and abiding affection is of slow growth. It resembles 
the process of generalization in the formation of a concept. It re- 
sults from a repeated experience of one kind of feeling caused by a 
particular person or thing. The child's love for its mother well 
illustrates this. At first it cannot be presumed to have any prefer- 
ence for its mother over other persons who are kind to it ; but, grad- 
ually, memories of pleasurable experience cluster around the mother, 
whose constant ministries are ever augmenting and reviving associa- 
tions of satisfaction. The loving care, the tender sympathy, the 
watchful protection, the kindly counsel, the sheltering and soothing 
presence, combine their effects upon the Sensibility in an aggregate 



294 PSYCHOLOGY. 

of delightful recollections from which the ehidings and pains of pun- 
ishment are obliterated, and the result is Love. It grows with the 
years as an appreciation of her skill, and wisdom, and virtue, and 
self-sacrifice, becomes better defined to the unfolding Intellect. In 
a similar way the love of places grows. The pleasures of childhood 
are all associated with the place and scenes of home. Here the first 
lessons in Sense-perception are taken, here language is first acquired, 
here the first emotions of all kinds are experienced with the fresh- 
ness of novelty in them, here too the personal affections are formed 
amid memories of father and mother, brother and sister. And so it 
results that, however humble, home elicits the affections of child- 
hood, and the last, as they are the first, of all the sentiments of the 
heart, held sacred in all our contacts with the world, are the love of 
mother and the love of home. 



2. The Classification of AflPections. 

We may classify Affections in three ways : 

(1) According to their Objects. — Regarding their ol- 
jects, we may say that Affections are (a) General, when 
entertained toward men uniyersally, as Philanthropy, or 
love of man, and Misanthropy, or hatred of man ; {h) 
Corporative, when entertained toward particular groups, 
as Patriotism, or love of country, and Esprit de Corps, 
or party-spirit ; {c) Domestic, when entertained toward 
members of one^s own family, as Conjugal, Parental, 
Filial, and Fraternal Love ; (d) Elective, when enter- 
tained according to some particular personal ground of 
attachment, as Friendship, Love of Home, etc. ; or {e) 
Religious, when entertained toward the Deity, as Piety, 
or devotion to Grod. 

(2) According to their Quality. — It is evident that Af- 
fections have qualities, a tendency to benefit or injure 
their objects. We have, therefore, according to this 
principle of division, two classes of Affections : (1) the 



SENTIMENTS. 295 

Benevolent, or those of well-wishing ; and (2) the Malev- 
olent, or those of ill-wishing. 

(3) According to their Modes of Origin. — Some Affec- 
tions originate without any other cause than an inherent 
tendency in our natures to entertain them. A mother^s 
love for her child is of this kind. It does not depend so 
much upon the character of the child as upon the nature 
of the mother. Other Affections originate from some 
consideration offered by the Intellect as a reason for its 
existence. An affection for a worthy cause is of this kind. 
As to their origin, then, we have two kinds of Affection : 
(1) Natural, and (2) Rational Affections. 

3. The Voluntary Element in Affection. 

While the Natural Affections have much of the spon- 
taneous character of Emotions and Desires, there is in all 
Affection a voluntary element. Wishing well or wishing 
ill enters into the very nature of Affection. The A'ffec- 
tions, therefore, are esteemed the best tests of personal 
character and of personal relation. As universal Benevo- 
lence is required and every form of Malevolence is cen- 
sured by the highest morality, the Affections are taken as 
the evidences of the virtuous or vicious elements in char- 
acter. Affection naturally leads up to the examination 
of Will, for it is, preeminently, feeling directed by Will. 
We speak of "placing" the Affections upon one or an- 
other object, but not of '^ placing " the Emotions. Hence, 
the objects of Love are viewed as "chosen." 

After stating that in mere emotion there is excitement without 
choice, McCosh says : " Affection does not deserve the name of love 
which mounts no higher than mere feeling. In all genuine love 



296 PSYCHOLOGY. 

there is well-wishing, there is benevolence. We wish well, what we 
believe to be good, toward the person beloved. In love, we would 
do good to our neighbor, we would promote the glory of God. To 
bring out this, we may distinguish between love considered as mere 
attachment, which we may call the love of complacency, and love 
considered as well-wishing, that is, benevolence. The former is 
mere emotion, which may or may not be virtuous. The latter is an 
act of our voluntary nature, and is a virtue, is the very highest 
virtue, — ' the greatest of these is charity.' " * 

4. The Principal Types of Affection. 

It is impossible to enumerate and distinguish all the 
Affections of the human soul. We can accomplish every 
important psychological purpose, however, by considering 
the leading types. These are best described antithetically, 
by contrasting each benevolent with its opposite malevo- 
lent form. We shall, accordingly, mention the following 
opposites : (1) Love and Hate, (2) Gratitude and Ingrati- 
tude, (3) Trust and Suspicion, (4) Pity and Contempt. 

(1) Love and Hate. — These are, respectively, the generic 
forms of benevolent and malevolent Affection. Love seeks 
to benefit, and Hate seeks to injure its object. Both words, 
however, are used with great latitude of meaning. Some- 
times Love hardly exceeds admiration and approval, and 
Hate sometimes implies only dislike and disapprobation. 
Love ranges through the wide scale of kindly feelings 
toward well-disposed and faithful domestic animals, the 
innumerable shades of personal feelings, — ^friendly, fra- 
ternal, parental, filial and conjugal, — up to the devotion 
of the whole soul to the will and service of the Creator. 
Hate assumes also a great variety of forms from passing 
Anger, which is more than an emotion because it reacts on 
an object, to Revenge, which is a deliberate determination 



SENTIMENTS, 297 

to injure in retaliation for an injury received. It also em- 
braces such special forms as Envy, which is hatred of 
another because of his success and good fortune, and 
Jealousy, which is a feeling of hatred felt toward another 
person because of his supposed success in withdrawing 
from ourselves an affection which we have possessed or 
desired. All Hate incites to injury, but in most natures 
it is brought within the influence of counteracting mo- 
tives, and the element of actual injury may be softened 
into ill-will. In the noblest natures it is reduced to mere 
Indignation, which is a strong feeling of the unworthi- 
ness of an injurious act and of the person who has per- 
formed it. 

It is natural for men to love their friends and hate their enemies. 
The Christian summary of moral law enforces the obligation of uni- 
versal love. It presents herein an ideal confessedly too high for 
ordinary human nature to accept and regard without a great moral 
elevation. It implies a recognition of personality and brotherhood 
in all men and a willingness to carry out this recognition in all ihe 
details of life. It implies an identification of one's self with hu- 
manity. This is difficult for man, as a mere sentient organism. 
The mere animal cannot identify himself with his species. As an 
animal he is simply an individual. But man, as a being of intel- 
ligence and moral nature, is not merely an individual. He becomes 
man only in society. Love appears first in the family, then in the 
tribe, then in the nation, only at last in the whole world. Even con- 
jugal affection plays but a small part in the most ancient literature. 
Woman is represented as the servant and solace only of man, not as 
his companion. Even among the Romans down to the Christian era, 
the child who was feeble or deformed was exposed to death by his 
father. It is an historic certainty that a new idea of man began to 
prevail wherever Christianity was introduced. "Women and children 
liave been recognized as having rights which "arise from personality. 
Only persons have rights. Love seeks the well-being of its objects. 
A wider love of men has established the rights of men. Human 



298 PSYCHOLOGY. 

well-being is attained only when each one has his rights. Love, 
therefore, is realized only in the light of law, which is the definition 
of rights. It is for this reason that Christ sums up the law as con- 
sisting finally in love, which is the "fulfilliiig of the law." 

(2) Gratitude and Ingratitude. — Gratitude, or thankful- 
ness, is a feeling of reciprocity, or disposition to make 
return, in good will at least, for kindness shown by an- 
other. The sentiment may exist without the ability or 
the opportunity to render service in return, but is want- 
ing where there is no disposition to reciprocate when the 
occasion does present itself. Even the nobler animals are 
capable of it, which makes it the more remarkable that it 
should be so often lacking in man. Its opposite. Ingrati- 
tude, is usually detested as a form of meanness indicating 
the utmost poverty of soul. 

A wit has defined Gratitude as "a lively sense of benefits to 
come," implying that it is simply an egoistic tact. Whatever evi- 
dence of this a careful study of human actions may afford, the sen- 
timent of gratitude as experienced by those capable of it is very dif- 
ferent from gracious expectancy of benefit. It is not so noble as 
love, because it rests on a reason, a benefit received, which derives 
its force from our own increased happiness. Because it ife not so 
noble, it is more to be expected and more missed when it is due and 
not rendered. It is this that makes ingratitude seem base where the 
lack of love would seem endurable. The bitterness of unrequited 
love is largely owing to the feeling that where much has been be- 
stowed something is to be expected. The Justness of this sentiment 
of love blended with a supposed claim for requital depends upon 
what has been accepted. If we lavish upon others what they do not 
wish, it is not just to call them ungrateful. The whole responsi- 
bility for the exercise of affection rests upon our freedom to choose 
its objects. 

(3) Trust and Suspicion. — As a concomitant of the 
judgment that a person possesses a true character, there 



SENTIMENTS. 299 

arises a feeling of confidence in his conduct and purity of 
motive. This leads to a going forth of the soul to repose in 
the integrity of another and is called Trust. This Affec- 
tion can exist only when the proper causes of it are believed 
to be present, and cannot be felt toward one whose conduct 
and disposition do not warrant it. The opposite of Trust 
is Suspicion. It is often a source of great injustice, inas- 
much as the interpretation of motives, on which it is often 
based, is a difficult and uncertain sphere of inference. 

The word "Faith " involves this sentiment of trust as well as 
mere belief, which is an intellectual act (page 155). It is the volun- 
tary element in faith that gives it a moral character, and this not in 
the act of trusting as such, but in honoring that which ought to be 
trusted. Faith thus becomes a duty and suspicion becomes a vice. 
We ought to trust that which is trustworthy. In the relations of 
husband and wife, parent and child, brother and brother, friend and 
friend, trust deserves to be awarded in proportion to proved fidelity. 
It is because of this that we speak of "low" and "base" and 
*' mean" suspicions, implying an unworthiness in the one who, with- 
out grounds, suspects. Our faith in nature and in the evidence of 
our senses and the operations of our faculties rests upon the trust, as 
it has been well expressed, "that the Author of our being will not 
put us to permanent intellectual confusion." Faith in God is a 
moral obligation resting on the trustworthiness of the Creator, whom 
we dishonor when we do not trust Him. How far we may be held 
to trust the representations of others with regard to all matters, de- 
pends upon the trustworthiness which they exhibit in those affairs of 
which we have some knowledge and of which we can, therefore, judge. 

(4) Pity and Contempt. — The community of nature be- 
tween man and man creates a fellowship of feeling between 
men. When a misfortune happens to one, it produces in 
all a feeling of sympathy, unless there is some strong 
counteracting sentiment. This going forth of sympathy 
toward another, with a disposition to alleviate his distress. 



300 PSYCHOLOGY, 

is Pity. It implies a perception of worth, either actual or 
possible, in its object. We may be pained through our 
sympathies when others endure deserved sufferings, but 
we do not really pity them, unless we have the disposition 
to help them. An opposite sentiment is entertained 
toward those whose actions are below the dignity of hu- 
man nature. This is Contempt. We may entertain it for 
persons as well as for their acts, but the perception of 
higher possibilities even in contemptible persons often 
evokes Pity for them while we have Contempt for their 
deeds and characters. 

The same object excites our pity or our contempt according to 
our judgment of its worthiness. An intoxicated man, who has 
become inebriated through the deception and mahcious purpose of 
others, excites our pity. One who has dehberately surrendered his 
reason and his will to the filth of the gutter, excites our contempt. 
In so far as one is a victim or a dupe, we pity him ; in so far as one 
is the conscious and purposive cause of his misfortune, we have con- 
tempt for him. It was the thought that society itself was in some 
way responsible for the crimes and degradation of men, and that 
under each marred and disfigured human shape stirred a soul with 
a spark of divinity within it, that inspired John Howard to attempt 
his philanthropic mission of prison-reform. Pity is benevolence in 
the presence of distress that is undeserved. Self -righteousness, 
thinking that no misfortune is undeserved, contemptuously ** passes 
by on the other side." Humanity, knowing its own weakness, has 
compassion on suffering, and bends over the victim of misfortune 
with a tender ministry of oil and wine, sets the fallen brother on its 
own beast, and provides shelter and protection. The soul is larger 
than every law but the law of love, and that is a shallow Psychology 
which does not measure its greatest magnitude. 

5. The Polarity of Affection. 

The Affections, as we have seen, are polar. Benevo- 
lence and Malevolence are opposite and contradictory. 



SENTIMENTS. 801 

No one can love and hate the same object at the same 
time. Affection has no equatorial region. There are 
many degrees of Affection, and personal temperaments 
differ in energy; but, generically, there are but two 
kinds. Love repelled can lead only to Hate. Hate de- 
stroyed can lead only to Love. "We may be without Af- 
fection for certain objects ; but, if we have it, it is of one 
of the two opposite types. A personal interest once 
aroused does not perish quickly ; but it may change its 
character, and that change is from one pole to its opposite. 

Congreve's lines,— 

" Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, 
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned,"— 

are too strong for a scientific formula, but they serve to show the 
manner in which the poet conceived the logic of feeling in its quick 
transition from one form to another. All literature and all life 
illustrate the fundamental truth that is here expressed. Love may 
linger over its object long after that object has proved unworthy, 
but the very memory of a really dead love is hateful to the lover. 

6. Affection and Education. 

The Affections have important relations to education 

(1) as affording a basis of inspiration and influence, and 

(2) as admitting of direction and training. 

(1) Inspiration and influence of Affections. — To inspire 
and influence a child, is to create love in his heart. It 
cannot be forced under compulsion, it must be lovingly 
elicited. The love of a person may lead to the love of 
a study. Hence, the value of personal affection for the 
teacher, but the true teacher strives to awaken love for 
the pursuit itself. Without diligence, there can be no 
progress, but diligence (from the Latin diligere, to prefer) 
implies a preference. 



302 PSTOEOLOar. 

(2) Direction and Training of the Affections. — Gruidance 
in the exercise of the affections implies a preconceived 
ideal of human nature^ to which the affections should be 
conformed. Assuming that benevolence rather than 
malevolence of character is the ideal to be attained, let us 
confine ourselves to the methods of training. These are 
Repression and Elicitation. As no affection is created by* 
mere force, so it cannot be destroyed by force. The con- 
fession of it may be silenced, but the sentiment remains. 
Repression, then, should not be direct. An affection is 
changed by keeping out of consciousness the qualities 
which have produced it and by bringing into conscious- 
ness other qualities. Dislike for a person is removed by 
keeping out of mind the qualities that have provoked dis- 
like and by fixing the attention upon excellences. The 
same principles apply to a study. Dislike for it is re- 
moved and love for it is elicited by presenting it in such 
a light as to make it really attractive. 

The brilliant German writer, Jean Paul Richtep (17G3-1825) has 
given some suggestive hints upon the education of the affections. 
He says: " The child begins with selfishness which affects us as little 
as that of animals ; because the soul, darkly hidden under its various 
wants, cannot yet feel its way to another, but incorporates others, so 
to speak, with itself. In so far as the child finds nothing lifeless 
without, any more than within itself ; it spreads its soul as a uni- 
versal soul over everything. . . . Love in the child, as in the animal, 
exists as an instinct ; and this central fire frequently, but not always, 
breaks through its outer crust in the form of compassion. A child 
is often indifferent, not merely to the sufferings of animals and to 
those of persons unconnected with himself (except when the cry of 
pain finds an echo in his own heart), but even to those of relatives. 
Innocent children will frequently find pleasure in standing on the 
place where another is to be punished, A second observation, 
founded on experience, is, that boys, when approaching near to 



SENTIMENTS. 303 

manhood, show the least [benevolent] affection, the most love of 
teasing, the greatest destructiveness, the most selfishness and cold- 
heartedness ; just as the coldness of the night increases twofold 
shortly before the rising of the sun. But the sun comes and warms 
the world ; the superabundance of power becomes love ; the strong 
stem encloses and protects the pith; the teasing lad becomes the 
affectionate young man. The other observation of childish heart- 
lessness, recorded above, vanishes in the very opposite quality of 
tenderness, so soon as the visible pain of the culprit, by its increase, 
affects the child; every fresh wound makes a tearful eye. Conse- 
quently, there is not so much need to ingraft the buds of affection, 
as to remove the moss and briars of selfishness which hide them 
from the sun. . . . Wherever a pulse beats, a heart reposes in the 
background; if there be but some little impulse toward love, the 
whole essence of love lies behind it. But you plant the selfish weed, 
instead of eradicating it, if in the presence of children, you pass 
contemptuous, though Just judgments, on your neighbors, or even 
your town. How else can the child learn to love the world than by 
learning to love what is daily around him? And can we love what 
we despise ? ... If a large town have the injurious effect on 
children's hearts of compelling them to assume the neutrality of 
great people, because so many of whom they are ignorant, and to 
whom they are indifferent, constantly pass before them, much more 
must a village harm them if they hate and despise as many people as 
they know, that is to say, everybody."' 

In this section, on *' Affection," we have consid- 
ered : — 

1, The Nature of Affection, 

2, The Classification of Affections, 

3, Tlie Voluntary Element in Affection. 
4:, The Principal Types of Affection, 

5. The Polarity of Affection, 

6, Affection and Education, 

References : (1) McCosh's The Emotions, pp. 217, 218. (2) 
Richter's Levana; or, the Doctrine of Education, pp. 339, 341. 



304 



P8YCH0L0Q7. 



SECTION lY* 

THE DEVELOPMENT OF SENSIBILITY. 
1. Summary of Results. 

In our examination of the different ways in which 
Sensibility is affected, we have discovered many kinds of 
feeling which we have undertaken to classify. We must 
not, however, lose sight of the unity that underlies this 
wide diversity of sensitive experience. While Sensibility 
is differently affected by various objects and ideas, it is 
not in any sense a product of these. It is a faculty of the 
soul inherent in its primary constitution, without which 
feeling of any kind would be impossible. We may sum- 
marize the feelings as follows ; 



r I. 



15 



Sensations, 
in the form of 



II. 



Sentiments, 
in the form of 



. _. , c. 4.- r (1) Muscular, 

1. Simple Sentience, i 



which is 



2. Appetite, 
which is 



Emotion, 
which is 



2. Desire, 

which is 

3. Affection, 

which is 



(2) Organic, or 
[ (3) Special; 



{ 



(1) Natural, 

(2) Acquired, or 

(3) Inherited. 



(1) Egoistic, 

(2) Esthetic, 

(3) Ethical, or 
^ (4) Religious; 

( (1) Personal, or 
1 (2) Social; 

( (1) Benevolent, or 
] (2) Malevolent. 



SENTIMENTS, 305 



2. The Stages of Feeling. 

The kinds of feeling enumerated in the preceding 
scheme appear in an order of succession and the higher 
forms affe conditioned upon the lower. The sensations, or 
physical feelings, are experienced first in the order of 
time ; those of simple sentience being the earliest, and 
the most rudimentary of the natural appetites soon ap- 
pearing. The sentiments, or psychical feelings, are not 
possible until the Intellect has a stock of ideas of which 
these higher forms of feeling are accompaniments. As 
soon as ideas and judgments are formed, emotions are ex- 
perienced as the concomitants of these. When feelings 
are connected ideally with certain objects which produce 
them, desires are awakened. When feelings of benevo- 
lence or malevolence are directed toward objects or per- 
sons, affections arise. Sensibility reaches these successive 
stages of feeling as the range of psychical experience is 
extended. 

3. The Development of Sensibility. 

The power to feel is evidently capable of development 
as new conditions for its exercise are afforded. As in the 
case of Intellect, however, it cannot be shown that Sensi- 
bility is gradually evolved from something else. It ap- 
pears in the simplest form of sensation, not as a result of 
external causes, but as a peculiar power in the sensitive 
subject. The Sensational School of psychologists has 
attempted to derive all the higher forms of feeling from 
simple sensations.^ The futility of this attempt is evident 
to any one who has carefully followed the analysis of the 



306 PSYCHOLOGY. 

feelings. A sentiment is not a transformed sensation, but 
a new form of feeling attending a new experience. 

4. Habitual Feeling. 

The repeated experience of feelings of the same kind 
produces habits of feeling. When these become fixed, 
they form dispositions of Sensibility, tendencies to repeat 
more readily the actions which produce the feelings that 
have become habitual. One who has formed the habit of 
experiencing joyful or sorrowful, hopeful or apprehensive, 
emotions, finally acquires a joyful or sorrowful, a hopeful 
or timid, disposition. Such dispositions crave exercise, 
and hence are sometimes called propensities, or inclina- 
tions to feel and act in certain particular ways. The 
aggregate of these propensities constitutes what we mean 
by the word character. 

" Coenaesthesia, or, as it is otherwise called, common feehng, seems 
to arise from the summation and cumulation of all the sensations of 
all the sensitive parts of the body. Any one, taken by itself, is very 
minute, and might be imperceptible. Taken together, they consti- 
tute the sense of life, of vitality, and of general lien aise, or malaise. 
They seem also to make up the underlying emotional temperament 
of the individual as distinct from his varying moods and disposi- 
tions. They also serve as the sensuous basis, which, when inter- 
preted, goes to determine the feeling which each has of his own 
individuality. Any sudden or abnormal alteration of it is quite 
likely to result in some disorder of individuality, as seen in insane 
persons, who imagine themselves to be Job, Queen Victoria, Julius 
Caesar, etc. These feelings, constituting the report in consciousness 
of one's body, as a whole, are certainly intimately connected with 
self. They are constant, continuous, and relatively permanent. 
They form the background on which other feelings display them- 
selves. It is not strange that their disorder should be accompanied 
with results otherwise startling."* The doctrine of "tempera- 



SENTIMENTS. - 307 

ments" is somewhat fully discussed by Ladd, "Physiological 
Psychology," pp. 574, 579; and Lotze, "Microcosmus," II., pp. 24 
et seq. 

5. Habitual Expression. 

We have seen that every emotion has its characteristic 
mode of outward expression. Habitual feelings produce 
habitual expressions. The face and figure reveal the dom- 
inant feelings of the soul, and thus become indexes of the 
inner life. There is, therefore, a foundation for a science 
and an art of physiognomy, or of judging the character of 
a person by his facial expression. The modifying causes 
of expression are so numerous and complex, however, that 
there is wide opportunity for erroneous judgment in the 
interpretation of the character through the expression. 

In stating that a science and an art of physiognomy are possible, 
it is not intended to imply that either a true science or a trustworthy 
art has yet been attained. The plausibility of such a science has 
conduced to the success of the most superficial and unscientific 
charlatans in deceiving people who have been willing to pay for such 
valuable knowledge as the science of reading character at sight would 
be if one could only really possess it. The Swiss writer, Lavater 
(1741-1801), who wrote extensively upon the subject, possessed keen 
powers of observation, much learning, and considerable insight into 
character. His theories, however, contain much that is purely fan- 
ciful, and of this he himself seemed to be aware before the close of 
his life. The practical difficulty in judging of character by the out- 
ward expression is, that the same effects are produced by many dif- 
ferent causes, and, as all such judgment depends upon the inference 
of the cause from the effect, we are constantly liable to go astray by 
assigning the wrong cause to a given facial expression. 

6. The Inheritance of Feelings. 

That certain prevailing feelings, or, more precisely, 
tendencies to experience certain particular feelings, are 



So8 - psygsologt. 

inherited, is beyond all doubt. We have already seen 
evidence of the inheritance of certain appetites (page 
245). Still, from the great complexity of the feelings, 
the proofs of heredity are not so clear as they are in the 
case of Intellect. Sentiments, and especially emotional 
temperaments, are certainly capable of transmission from 
generation to generation. 

Maudsley testifies as follows to the distinct inheritance of avarice: 
**In several instances in which the father has toiled upwards from 
poverty to vast wealth, with the aim and hope of founding a family, 
I have witnessed the results in a mental and physical degeneracy, 
which has sometimes gone as far as the extinction of the family in 
the third or fourth generation. When the evil is not so extreme as 
madness or ruinous vice, the savor of a mother's influence having 
been present, it may still be manifest in an instinctive cunning and 
duplicity, and an extreme selfishness of nature — a nature not having 
the capacity of a true moral conception or altruistic feeling. What- 
ever opinion other experimental observers may hold, I cannot but 
think that the extreme passion for getting rich, absorbing the whole 
energies of life, does predispose to mental degeneration in the off- 
spring — either to moral defect, or to intellectual or moral deficiency, 
or to outbreaks of positive insanity under the conditions of life." ' 

In this section, on "The Development of Sensi- 
bility," we have considered :— 

1, Summary of Results, 

2, The Stages of Feeling. 

3, The Development of Sensibility, 

4, Habitual Feeling. 

5, Habitual Expression. 

Q. The Inheritance of Feelings. 

References : (1) Spencer's Principles of Psychology y II., Part 
VIII., Chapter II, (2) Dewey's Psychology, p. 76. (3) Maudsley's 
Physiology of Mind, p. 334. 



PART III -WILL. 



1. Definition of Will. 

Will is the power of self- direction, or of acting for self- 
chosen ends. It cooperates with Intellect, and directs it 
in all the higher processes of knowledge. It derives its 
principal ends of action from the feelings furnished by 
Sensibility. 

Will has sometimes been confounded with psychical activity in 
general.* It has also been identified with the action resulting from 
the operations of knowing and feeling. ^ Both of these notions of 
Will fan to satisfy the demands of consciousness. We possess a 
power to direct our knowing powers and to repress certain of our 
feelings. This directing power is Will. Dewey, whose distinction 
between knowledge and feeling was noticed under the definition of 
Sensibility (page 231), in addition to the definition of Will quoted in 
that connection, says: '* A union of feeling and knowledge in one 
and the same act is what we know generally as Will," * In this, as 
in his distinction between knowledge and feeling, he has been influ- 
enced by a supposed objectivity of knowledge, a subjectivity of feel- 
ing, and a relation between them which he calls Will. We cannot 
thus easily draw these distinctions. Knowledge, as we have shown, 
as individual experience, is subjective. Consciousness has not two 
" sides " between which Will is simply a "relation." Psychologic- 
ally, that is, as revealed in consciousness, Will is not " a union of 
feeling and knowledge in one and the same act." Will is the power 
of the soul to direct its own activity, and each particular act of di- 
rection is a volition. Feeling and knowing are, undoubtedly, 
united in the same state of consciousness, — ^that is, as subordinate 
elements of the same general state of consciousness, — whenever any 
act of volition is performed, but Will is not this ''union." We 



310 PSYCHOLOaY. 

need, however, to avoid the hypostasis of this faculty, as if it were 
a power separate from and above the conscious soul, playing the 
part of a sovereign ruler over it. It is the soul itself exercising 
self-direction. 

2. The Study of Will Psychological. 

We can discover the nature and limits of Will only by a 
psychological method of study, that is, by the examination 
of consciousness. The temptation is very strong to study 
Will mainly from the side of bodily manifestations, be- 
cause action is so much more readily observed when it is 
external. If, however, we study Will through physical 
motion, we shall never understand it ; for we shall never 
get beyond matter in motion, which is wholly different 
from an act of Will. 

If we begin with the idea of a balance in the opposite scales of 
which weights are thrown, and regard these weights as representing 
"motives" having different degrees of power to affect the position 
of the scales, — we shall end with the conclusion that the *'most 
powerful motive will prevail " ; and we shall think of Will as wholly 
determined by the play of physical forces. But this is merely amus- 
ing ourselves with figurative language and deceptive analogies. A 
true psychological analysis shows us that such figures, borrowed 
from the physical world, have no more relation to the problem of 
self-direction through acts of volition than imaginary battles be- 
tween mythical gods and goddesses. The subject is primarily psy- 
chological, and should be treated in the light of the facts of con- 
sciousness. If consciousness cannot be trusted to report faithfully 
how far our acts are self-determined, we have no right to employ it 
for any scientific purpose whatever, and all science ends in universal 
skepticism. 

3. Two Modes of Action, 

There are two modes of action which are distinguished 
ill every language and by every person as being widely 



WILL, 311 

different. They are : (1) Involuntary Action, or such as 
occurs without our conscious determination ; and (2) 
Voluntary Action, or such as occurs with a conscious deter- 
mination of the soul. In action of the first kind^ Will is 
not an element. In action of the second kind. Will is the 
directing cause. The difference between these two kinds 
of action is not that we are unconscious of involuntary, 
and conscious of voluntary, action. We are conscious of 
both. The difference is that we are not conscious of 
directing involuntary action for any end, and we are con- 
scious of directing voluntary action for some end, or pur- 
pose. The words ** unintentional ^^ and "intentional,^* 
"non-purposive'* and "purposive,** assist in marking 
this distinction. Let us, then, consider those actions in 
which Will is not present, and afterward those in which 
Will is the directing cause ; or, — 

(1) Involuntary Actions, and 
(3) Voluntary Actions, 

References : (1) Sully's Psychology, p. 572. (2) Bain's Mno- 
Hans and the Will^ pp. 310, 311. (3) Dewey's Psychology^ p. 347. 



CHAPTEH h 

INVOLUNTARY ACTION. 

DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 

A complete survey of Involuntary Actions involves 
notice of (1) The Motor Mechanism, (2) Instinctive Action, 
and (3) Acquired Action. These are the topics of the 
following sections. 



SECTION I. 

THE MOTOR MECHANISM. 

1. Structure of the Motor Mechanism. 

The bodily organism serves both for the reception of 
sense-impressions through its sense-organs, which have 
been described, and for the communication of motion to 
the external world. It is not only a sensor, but a motor, 
mechanism. The body consists of bones, muscles, and 
nerves so combined as to bring the conscious self into re- 
lation with the material world. The bones of the skeleton 
(Figure 22, 1, 6, 7) furnish the levers, fulcrums, and 
points of muscular attachment necessary to mechanical 
effects. The muscles (Figure 22, 2, 4) supply connections 
between these articulated bones and also contain, stored 



INVOLUNTARY ACTION 313 

up in their tissues, contractile energy which, when re- 
leased by the disturbance of its equilibrium, serves to 
move the bones. The nerves of motion, or motor nerves, 
are fibres running from the brain and other centres 
(Figure 1) to the muscles, in which they terminate, and 
serve to stimulate to action the contractile energy stored 
up m the latter. The motor mechanism thus forms a 
medium for reaction upon the outer world in coordina- 
tion with the sensor mechanism for receiving sensations 
from without. 

The amount of physical energy which the motor mechanism is 
capable of putting forth depends upon what is stored up in the 
muscles. It is not created at the moment when it is used, but is the 
product of previous organic processes. The action of the nerve 
upon the muscle may be compared to the action of a lighted match 
upon a powder-magazine. It does not create the force, but simply 
sets it free. We must not, therefore, think of the muscular force as 
derived from the nerve. An amount of nervous motion sufficient to 
stir a filament of the finest down may be sufficient to explode a 
muscular discharge that will knock down a man. These forces have 
not been accurately measured, but the illustration serves to illustrate 
the point that muscular energy is simply liberated, not generated, by 
the vibratory motion of a motor nerve. 

2. Kinds of Motor Activity. 

The motor mechanism is never wholly at rest. Many of 
the bodily processes, like digestion, the movements of the 
heart, and the circulation of the blood, are controlled by 
a system of forces with which the sensor-motor apparatus 
has little to do. But this apparatus is capable of motion 
also without either consciousness or volition. For ex- 
ample, if we tickle the foot of a person asleep, he draws it 
away without waking. The impression sent in by the 



314 PSYCHOLOGY, 

sensor nerves is communicated to the motor nerves at the 
centre where the sensor and motor nerves are connected, 
and the motion in the sensor nerves is translated into 
motion in the muscles, without consciousness. This is 
called reflex action. Sometimes the same kind of motion 
is made when the person, being awake, is conscious of it, 
but is not the cause of it ; as when a person's haifd is 
touched with the point of a pin and suddenly, without 
intention, yet co7isciously, drawn away. This is called 
sensor! -motor action, to distinguish it from reflex action. 
Both reflex and sensori-motor actions are often very com- 
plicated. Walking, running, playing on musical instru- 
ments, etc., are often attended with very little self -direc- 
tion. But these complicated actions are, as we shall see, 
all acquired. In both these cases, the motor impulses 
seem to be derived from the sensor impressions without 
the intervention of self -direction. There is also a third 
kind of involuntary action. As we have seen in discuss- 
ing the Emotions (page 263), it is possible for the percep- 
tion of incongruity to produce laughter by the involuntary 
reaction of the idea upon the organism. This is called ideo- 
motor action. All these modes of action are involuntary. 

We have later on to distinguish between actions of the kinds just 
described which are original and those which are acquired. We 
shall see that many of these were voluntary actions before they 
became automatic. We shall ultimately arrive at greater clearness 
in the comprehension of voluntary actions by 'eliminating from them 
these involuntary actions which are so often confounded with them 
and, being taken for them, give to all our actions the appearance of 
physical necessity. If a decapitated frog can rub acid off his leg 
when he has no consciousness of pain from it, it is because provision 
is made in his organization for very complicated involuntary actions. 
If the postman of Halle, made famous by Hamilton,^ could walk a 



INVOLUNTARY ACTION. 315 

long distance when actually asleep, and waken only when his foot 
struck the rising ground at the end of the plain over which he walked 
while asleep, certainly many of our daily actions may be regarded as 
involuntary. If a well-disposed and sympathetic person can be so 
indecorous as to burst out laughing at some comical occurrence amid 
the solemnities of a funeral, the involuntary operations of both mind 
and body deserve to be carefully studied. It is not by ignoring 
these phenomena that we shall ever come to understand voluntary 
action, but by making their character perfectly distinct, in order 
that, when the lines of distinction are clearly drawn, we may dis- 
cover how a really voluntary action differs from all of these. Those 
who would throw doubt upon these complicated reflex actions, or 
withhold them from view through fear that such evidence will prove 
that we are merely automata wholly in the power of physical forces, 
have most need to subject them to exact analysis, in order that 
voluntary action may have an opportunity of vindicating its real 
nature. 

3. Physical Control of the Motor Mechanism. 

The soul is conscious of two distinct modes of control 
over the motor mechanism. These are : 

(1) Innervation. — This is the process of concentrating 
energy upon a given point. The force of the muscles 
may be thrown into a grasp of the hand by a volition, or 
self-directing act, so as to give it a stronger grip. By 
fixing the attention upon certain parts of the body the 
blood may be directed to those parts. As we have seen in 
the study of Phantasy, a psychical reaction can reinstate 
some of the conditions of original perception and thus re- 
produce an image (page 90). In these cases there is 
consciousness of self-directing action for an end. 

(2) Inhibition. — This is the process of arresting actions 
that tend to occur involuntarily in one of the three modes 
described. Thus, a patient in the midst of a dental 
operation has a tendency to cry out and leap from the 



316 PSTGHOLOGT. 

chair. A strong volition can sometimes prevent the cry 
and the springing from the chair. Even when it fails, 
we consciously know that self -directing power has been 
exerted. By this power of inhibition we can sometimes 
prevent the rising of ideas which tend to arise in con- 
sciousness, and thus anticipate and neutralize a result that 
would otherwise follow. Both these processes, however, 
frequently fail, and when they do, we say that the result- 
ing action is involuntary. 

Without attempting at this point to determine the nature of the 
innervating and inhibitory powers, we may call attention to their 
importance by a physical illustration. '*The processes which pro- 
duce voluntary motion begin by being a purely psychical excitation 
and insensibly become, by the natural play of the organic machinery, 
a physical excitation. In thus becoming transformed in their suc- 
cessive evolution, they present the fascinating picture we constantly 
see presented to us in the working of steam-engines. We see, in fact, 
in this case, how a force, slight at its commencement, is capable of 
being transformed, and becoming by means of the series of appara- 
tus it sets at work, the occasion of a gigantic development of me- 
chanical power. In fact, at the moment when the engine begins to 
work, a very slight force, the mere interA^ention of the hand of the 
engine-driver who turns a handle and lets the steam rush against the 
upper surface of the piston, would suffice for this. This active 
force, once at liberty, immediately develops its strength, which is 
proportional to the surface over which it extends ; the piston falls, 
its rod draws down the beam; the power is developed as the fly- 
wheel revolves, and the initial movement, so weak at its commence- 
ment, amplifies and increases continually, in proportion as the 
volume and power of the mechanical appliances placed at its dis- 
posal become more considerable and more powerful. "^ 

4. The Limitations of the Motor Mechanism. 

There are two kinds of limitation to the activity of the 
motor mechanism. There are (1) limitations of structure 



IMVOLUNTART ACTIOJ^. 317 

in the length, strength, and articulation of the bones ; in 
the size, fibrous texture, and terminal attachments of the 
muscles, and in the quality and fineness of the nervous 
centres and connections. There are also (2) limitations of 
energy. The supply of physical force, both muscular and 
nervous, is a variable quantity. It is conditioned upon 
nutrition, health and exercise. There are times when one 
is stripped of all executive power. But none of these 
limitations affects volition. We may will to act without 
being able to act. 

5. The Motor Mechanism and ^Education. 

The motor mechanism is capable of training. Its per- 
fection is the aim of physical culture. Modern Physiology 
has shown both the necessity and the methods of this 
branch of education, and its importance is at the present 
day very generally realized. The value of specific gym- 
nastic exercises, under competent direction, needs not to 
be insisted upon. The spontaneous play of the motor 
powers in early childhood is closely connected with the 
acquisition of sense-knowledge, and movement, as we have 
seen, is essential to the de/elopment of Sense-perception. 

In this section, on the "Motor Mechanism," we 
have considered: — 

1, Structure of the Motor Mechanism, 

2, Kinds of Motor Activity, 

3, JPsychical Control of the Motor 3Iechanisni. 
4z. The lAmitations of the Motor Mechanism. 
5, The Motor Mechanism and Education, 

References: (1) Hamilton's Metaphysics, p. 233. (3) J. Luys's 
The Brain and its Functions, pp. 336, 337, 



318 PSYCHOLOGY, 

SBCTIOIT II* 
I INSTINCTIVE ACTION. 

1. !Definition of Instinctive Action. 

Instinctive action is action to which the agent is im- 
pelled by some impulse derived from his natural constitu- 
tion, without knowing the cause or the purpose of the 
action. The tendency to act in this manner is called 
"instinct" (from the Latin instinctus, instigation). 
Such actions, although they do not originate from any 
conscious purpose of the agent, have an end ; which is the 
conservation either of the individual or of the species to 
which he belongs. 

The nature and origin of instinct have been much discussed by 
naturalists and have provoked much disagreement. Spencer says: 
Instincts are cases of "compound reflex action" resulting from 
*' organized and inherited habits." * He seems to overlook the fact 
that before ** habits" could be ** organized" and "inherited" an 
organism must have existed already endowed with instincts, at least 
with the instincts of self-preservation and self-propagation. Lewes 
holds that all instincts are cases of " lapsed intelligence." * Darwin 
says: "I will not attempt any definition of instinct."^ He adds: 
"An action, which we ourselves require experience to enable us to 
perform, when performed by an animal, more especially by a very 
young one, without experience, and when performed by many in- 
dividuals in the same way, without their knowing for what purpose 
it is performed, is usually said to be instinctive." * And again, "If 
we suppose any habitual action to become inherited — and it can be 
shown that this does sometimes happen— then the resemblance be- 
tween what was originally a habit and an instinct becomes so close 
as not to be distinguished. ... But it would be a serious error to 
suppose that the greater number of instincts have been acquired by 



INVOLUNTARY ACTION, 319 

habit in one generation, and then transmitted by inheritance to suc- 
ceeding generations." ^ George J. Romanes (1848- ), a Canadian 
naturalist resident in England, has treated the subject of Instinct 
very fully. He criticises very minutely all the other writers just 
named. His own definition of instinct is, ** reflex action into which 
there is imported the element of consciousness." ^ All these discus- 
sions tend to show what chaos naturalists would make of Psychology 
if they followed a strictly objective method, without any appeal to 
consciousness. 



2. Characteristics of Instinct. 

That there is in man, but much more distinctly in the 
lower animals, a tendency to act instinctively, there is no 
doubt. It is best, therefore, to adhere strictly to this 
clear idea and not to confuse the mind with refinements. 
There are, however, certain characteristics of instinct as 
it appears in animal life concerning which naturalists are 
in substantial agreement. They are as follows : 

(1) Ignorance of the end. — When a child instinctively 
takes nourishment, impelled by the impulse of hunger, it 
has no knowledge of the repair of the bodily waste as the 
natural end of its action. 

(2) Absolute fatality. — Instinctive action^ belong to the 
order of purely organic actions and are, therefore, phys- 
ically necessary. They result from organic causes which 
operate according to physical laws and are entirely beyond 
the sphere of choice. • 

(3) General uniformity. — The instinctive actions of all 
the individuals of the same species are the same. It is 
through his knowledge of their instincts that man be- 
comes master of the lower animals. He uses these in- 
stincts as he does physical forces and depends upon their 
universality and uniformity in the species. 



320 PSTCHOLOGT, 

(4) Priority to experience. — An instinctive action does 
not need to be learned. It is perfectly performed the first 
time, without observation or imitation. The bird builds 
its nest, the honey-bee constructs its honey-comb, the 
young duck takes to the water and swims, without any 
lessons. 

Many naturalists hold that instinct is derived from experience, 
that is, from ancestral, not individual, experience. Let us take the 
case of the necrophore, or sexton-bee. Although this insect dies in 
giving being to its larva, it prepares for that larva, which it will 
never see, an animal food which it never uses itself, since it subsists 
on plants. What has taught the necrophore to make this provision 
for its offspring? No one of its ancestors has ever seen its progeny. 
It has never observed this action in others of its kind. Here is a 
typical case of instinct, imperative and universal, but unaccom- 
panied with intelligence of its own end. Here is neither " organized 
and inherited habit" nor "lapsed intelligence," but a series of 
actions springing out of the natural constitution of the agent, related 
to an end, but unconscious of it. 

3. Instinct and Intelligence. 

Without disputing about names, there are two kinds of 
action entirely antithetical. Instinctive action, as we 
have seen, is action without consciousness of an end. In- 
telligent action is action for a consciously known end. 
In so far as an agent acts without knowing for what end 
he is acting, his action is non-intelligent. Instinct and 
Intelligence are, therefore, directly opposite. In so far as 
we act from instinct, we do not act from intelligence. 
In so far as we act from intelligence, we do not afet 
from instinct. In the animals below man, instinct 
predominates over intelligence. In man, intelligence 
predominates over instinct. They exist in an inverse 



INVOLUNTARY ACTION. 3^1 

ratio. Being opposite principles, they are not derived 
from each other. 

We have seen (page 44) that the lower animals are born with an 
akaost complete adaptation for the performance of their life func- 
tions, while man in infancy possesses the least of automatic adapta- 
tion to the conditions of lif€. "Important reasons suggest them- 
selves," says Porter, "why the animal is taught and impelled by 
instinct to do at once, and with little exposure to failure, what man 
can attain only by slow and painful acquisition, and at the risk of 
many failures and sufferings. The discipline to which man is sub- 
jected has respect to his moral culture as welf as to his intellectual 
perfection and success. He needs to learn patience, caution, fore- 
sight, self-distrust, and circumspection, as well as the higher 
virtues. All of these are furthered by the processes through which 
he must pass in gaining the acquired perceptions. It is by the 
adaptation of this discipline to high moral uses, that is explained 
the law of nature by which man is born the most ignorant and help- 
less of all animals, and forced, as it were, to make his acquisitions 
by his own sagacity, as fast as he is impelled by the appetites, 
desires, and affections which are evoked from his at first undeveloped 
soul."' While instinct enables the animal to do a few acts well, it 
binds him fast in the small circle of these acts. Intelligence, which 
at first reaches its ends with feebleness and uncertainty, broadens 
man's field of activity, adapts him to every environment, and fits 
him for the attainment of all his ends, making him at last inter- 
preter and master of all the conditions of life. Instinct marks the 
power of the body over the soul ; intelligence marks the soul's power 
over the body. 

4. The Instincts in Man. 

In man instinct, which is the predominant directing 
principle in animals, gives place to intelligence. Still, 
there are in man, who also possesses an animal nature, 
certain tendencies to act, sufficiently universal and uni- 
form to deserve the name of instincts. They afford the 



322 PsrcMoLO&r, 

original nuclei about which the appetites and desires form 
themselves. They may be divided as follows : 

(1) Instincts ppesepvative of Self. — These are (a) Nutri- 
tive, impelling us to seek food for the maintenance of life, 
although this pursuit soon falls under the dominion of 
intelligence ; and {b) Protective, impelling us to seek our 
safety either by flight from danger or by resisting and 
destroying our foes. 

(2) Instincts ppesepvative of the Species. — These are (a) 
Sexual, impelling* those of opposite sexes to seek each 
other^s companionship, sometimes without a consciousness 
of the end of nature in implanting this tendency; (b) 
Matepnal, impelling the mother to care for her child, even 
at the cost of her own life, if necessary, and irrespective 
of the child's beauty or promise ; and (c) Social, impelling 
men generally to unite in communities for intercourse and 
mutual defense. The tendency to employ signs as the 
medium of emotional and rational communication, or 
language, is a form of the social instinct. Emotional 
language — facial expressions, gestures, and vocal tones 
and inflections — shared also by many animals, is almost 
entirely instinctive. Imitation is based on organic con- 
ditions (page 287) and affords the impulse that leads to 
the acquisition of a particular language by children. 
Curiosity also seems to have its roots in an instinct for 
knowledge. 

Contrast the maternal provision of the sexton-bee for its offspring 
with that of a human mother, and one sees at once the contrast be- 
tween instinct and intelligence. The insect knows nothing of its 
progeny, but is directed precisely what to do for it, in order to pro- 
vide for its well-being. The human mother knows that her child is 
sick, but must use her intelligence in caring for it. Her instinct 



INVOLUNTARY ACTION 323 

prompts her intelligence to act for the interest of her child, but does 
not prescribe how she should act. The human instincts merely 
prompt to action ; the mode of action is left to intelligence. For 
the animal, guided by instinct, there is but one way to act, and his 
organization contains provision to make him act in that way. For 
man, guided by intelligence, there are many ways of acting, and 
through his intelligence he makes a choice of the one he will adopt. 
Through experiment he learns new and better ways, and this is 
progress, of which the animal is, by himself, incapable. The human 
instincts furnish only hints, leaving the problems of life to be worked 
out by the aid of reason and experience. 

5. Relation of Instinct to Education. 

Instinct has important relations to education. It re- 
veals a plan in nature which personal intelligence of every 
grade ought to respect. It is the climax of teleology as ex- 
hibited in the physical and organic world. Not only has 
the organizing power constituted organisms, but provision 
has been made in their constitution for their preservation 
and perpetuation. In the presence of this truth, we have 
to observe (1) that instinct is capable of being overruled 
by intelligence, and (2) that no natural instinct requires 
to be destroyed. 

(1) Instinct may be overruled by Intelligence. — This is 
evident both from the virtues and the vices of men. In 
the moral order of human society, we see the animal 
instincts regulated by principles that limit the perform- 
ance of instinctive actions. While virtue shows the 
animal instincts restrained by moral law, vice shows them 
destroyed by sophistry. Thus, the maternal instinct, 
which prompts a mother to care for her child, may be 
overcome by false principles, which induce her to destroy 
it. Thus instinct is modified by intelligence for both 
good and evil. 



324 PSYCHOLOGY. 

(2) No natural instinct requires to be destroyed. — As 

related to natural ends, instincts have their reason for ex- 
istence. As man possesses both a rational and an animal 
nature, instinct in man must be harmonized with reason. 
Instinct, which furnishes a complete law for the purely 
auimal nature, does not furnish a perfect law for a rational 
nature. The instincts need not be destroyed, for they 
furnish a law for the lower nature. They should be 
regulated, however, because in man this lower nature is 
united with a higher. The moral law requires us to love 
our neighbor as ourselves^ but does not require us to 
destroy the instinct of self -protection. A false system of 
education may crush out every manly instinct, but in 
doing so it has done what reason itself cannot justify. 
The first duty of the educator is to know what the natural 
instincts in man are, the second to respect them as laws of 
human nature, the third to limit instinct to its proper 
sphere by subjecting it to moral law, which is the law of 
the higher nature. 

There are, indeed, "tendencies," "habits," and "inherited dis- 
positions " which require to be repressed and extinguished, but these 
are not natural instincts. They are the abnormal excrescences of 
individual life, not instincts universally. inherent in the human 
species. Cruelty, destructiveness, etc., for example, are tendencies 
of this kind very common in man, but they are not universal, they 
have no natural purpose, they are not, properly speaking, human 
instincts. This is shown very well by the common Judgment which 
pronounces them "inhuman." They are individual tendencies, 
sometimes inherited, it may be, sometimes individually acquired, 
but not instincts in the sense here intended. And yet, as Darwin 
has said, "the resemblance between what was originally a habit 
and an instinct becomes so close as not to be distinguished." 
This, however, simply indicates the limitation of our discerning 
power. 



INVOLUNTARY ACTION. 325 

In this section, on "Instinctive Action," we have 
considered :— 

1, Definition of Instinctive Action, 

2, Characteristics of Instinct. 

3, Instinct and Intelligence, 
d. The Instincts in Man, 

5, Melation of Instinct to Education, 

References: (1) Sipencefs Principles of Psychology, l.,'Pa,vt IV., 
Chapter V. (2) Romanes' Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 257. 
(3) Darwin's Origin of Species, pp. 205, 206. (4) Id. (5) Id. (6) 
Romanes' Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 159. (7) Porter's 
Human Intellect, p. 177. 



SBCTIOIT in. 

ACQUIRED ACTION. 
1. Definition of Acquired Action. 

We inherit a nature, but we acquire a character. 
Human nature is essentially the same in all human 
beings. Character is variable and assumes new forms in 
different persons. An acquired action is called a Habit. 
It consists in a disposition to repeat itself whenever favor- 
able circumstances are afforded. Thus, any particular 
movement of any bodily organ repeated many times 
becomes a habit, or acquired action. A particular activ- 
ity of any psychical faculty also tends to become a habit. 
Man is sometimes described as '^a bundle of habits. '' 
He is this, but he is more ; for underneath these habits, 
which are characteristic of the individual, is the nature 
that is common to all men, — the plastic humanity that 
may be conformed to many moulds of manhood. 



326 PSYCHOLOGY. 

Habit is sometimes called "a second nature." This expression 
very well marks the distinction between purely natural and acquired 
activity. Habit is activity in the process of becoming nature. 
Owing to the law of heredity, it is difficult to draw the line between 
instinct and habit ; for the habits of one generation seem to merge 
into the instincts of the next. We are here confronted with the 
problem that meets us everywhere, the discrimination of the pri- 
mordial from the secondary. We must, however, have words to indi- 
cate a distinction so clear as that between inherited and acquired 
activities. The ordinary usage of language has restricted the word 
" habit " to the activities acquired by the individual. 

2. The Origin of Habits. 

Habits originate either from external circumstances or 
from an act of Will. Many habits are induced by condi- 
tions in our surroundings to which we give little atten- 
tion. We adapt ourselves to our environment^, and habits 
are spontaneously formed. Other habits originate from a 
specific act, or series of acts, of Will. This is the origin 
of most of our complex habits ; such as reading, writing, 
playing on musical instruments, etc., which require 
repeated and attentive mental direction in order to estab- 
lish them. In general, habit is organized by repeating 
an action. It is disorganized by discontinuing the action. 
A habit which is common to many persons, or widely 
prevalent among them, is called a custom. Customs are 
the habits of communities. 

The origin of habits shows how far one is responsible for their 
formation and continuance. Although a habit may be formed with- 
out any act of Will, that is, without an intention that it shall be 
formed, the agent is responsible for its existence, because it might 
have been prevented. No habit can be formed, if we refuse in the 
beginning to perform the act which, by repetition, results in the 
habit. Again, there is provision in our nature for the disorganiza- 



INVOLUNTARY ACTION 327 

tion of habits, even after they have been formed. No act can take 
place except under certain conditions. We can remove, or refuse to 
fulfill, the conditions which an activity requires; and, deprived of 
its opportunities, the habit is destroyed. 

3. The Laws of Habit. 

There are two laws of habit which are of great signifi- 
cance : 

(1) The Law of increasing Automatism. — This may be 
stated as follows : Habit diminishes feeling and increases 

activity. The tendency of feeling to disappear from 
habitual action is well known. The chemist becomes 
insensible to the bad odors in the laboratory, the hunter 
to the sensations incident to exposure, the surgeon to 
emotional sympathy with pain. In order to produce from 
day to day the same exhilarating effects of alcoholic drink, 
the dose must be progressively increased. Hence, the 
tendency of the drinker to increase the quantity or the 
quality of his potations. At the same time that feeling 
is diminished, activity of a specific kind is increased. 
The chemist performs his experiments with greater ease, 
the hunter more readily discovers and secures his game, 
the surgeon cuts more skillfully. Although an intoxicant 
produces less feeling, it comes to be imperatively de- 
manded. Habitual action becomes automatic, liberating 
consciousness and attention for new uses. The expert 
writer, whose whole mind was at first given to the 
motions of his hand, finds the operation of writing almost 
mechanical, and his higher faculties are free to occupy 
themselves with the current of thought. 

There is an apparent exception to this law. Habitual feelings 
seem to be increased in amount. This increase is only relative, not 



328 PSYCHOLOGY, 

absolute. If the feeling does actually increase in amount, it is 
because the activity increases in still greater proportion. The miser, 
as we have seen (page 285), experiences a growing desire for money, 
but his enjoyment rather diminishes, while his efforts to procure it 
increase. The habitual scold loses sensibility to her own detrac- 
tions, while her fault-finding activity becomes incessant. At last, 
the pain of her censures falls upon other people more than upon her- 
self and she degenerates into a fault-finding machine ! Happily, 
the pain of being scolded also diminishes as much scolding is experi- 
enced, until, finally, we regard the most violent explosions of wrath 
as we do other inevitable natural phenomena, as, for example, a 
thunder-storm or a tempest ! 

(2) The Law of destination of Character. — This law may 
be stated thus : Habit tends to become permanent and to 
exclude the formation of other habits. An acquired action 
not only tends to be easily repeated, but to render impos- 
sible the acquisition of new modes of activity of a different 
kind. The greatest obstacle to the formation of a habit 
is the existence of its opposite. Thus habit forms charac- 
ter, and character determines destiny. 

4, Cerebration. 

The laws of habit are, doubtless, universal. If so, they 
govern to some extent the activities of the brain as well 
as those of other organs. The action of the brain is called 
"cerebration" (from the Latin cerebrum, brain). How 
far can the habitual activities of the brain affect our 
mental processes ? The sight of a sharp stick thrust 
toward one's face, causes him to dodge the expected blow 
involuntarily. If so complicated an action as this can 
occur automatically, what limit is there to the actions 
which may be thus explained as purely involuntary ? It 
cannot be shown that we should dodge, or perform any 



INVOLUNTARY ACTION. 329 

similar complex action, if we were not conscious. The 
cause of our dodging is the involuntary reaction of the 
idea upon the motor mechanism, which has acquired cer- 
tain particular movements. An infant that has never 
been hurt, does not dodge when a blow is aimed at it. 
An adult, who has been hurt, can hardly prevent the 
involuntary motion. The action, then, is ideo-motor 
(page 314). Carpenter and some other physiologists con- 
sider that ''unconscious cerebration" also may cause 
such complex actions, and employ this assumption in 
explaining many singular phenomena. 

Carpenter thus explains the solution of problems and other 
intricate processes in sleep. He gives many examples of such 
alleged performances.^ A prominent specialist in abnormal psy- 
chology comments upon these explanations as follows: "It is quite 
true that, after long puzzling ourselves to see the true relations of 
things, it now and then happens that they suddenly, as it were, pre- 
sent themselves to our mind, and the difficulty is at once solved, like 
a whole landscape seen by a flash of lightning; but this affords no 
proof that we have been working at it unconsciously, it merely 
shows that the mind is sometimes more rapid and powerful in its 
operations than at others. Occasionally,-^s in recollecting where we 
put lost objects, it is owing to an idea crossing our mind which 
lights up a lost train of associations. As well might the wearied 
marksman whose shoulder is sore, and whose gun trembles in his 
hand so that he shoots wide of the mark, but who finds next morn- 
ing that he can hit the centre — as well might he conclude that he 
had been unconsciously practicing in his sleep." ^ The exaggerated 
extent to which Carpenter would carry his theory is illustrated by 
this passage. "An expert calculator, who may have originally had 
no more than an ordinary facility in apprehending the relations of 
numbers, casting his eye rapidly from the bottom to the top of a 
column of figures, will name the total without any conscious ap- 
preciation of the value of each individual figure; having acquired by 
practice somewhat of that immediate insight, which is so remarkable 
a form of intuition in certain rare cases. It is certain that a dis- 



330. PSYCHOLOGY. 

tinct ideational state must have been originally called up by the 
sight of each individual figure; and yet an impression made by it 
upon the cerebrum, which does not produce any conscious recogni- 
tion of its numerical value, comes to be adequate for the evolution 
of the result."^ Such cases must be "rare," indeed, and it would 
be interesting to find an accountant who could add up a column of 
figures correctly without being conscious of each figure as he passed 
it! "Immediate insight" which is ''unconscious" is certainly not 
far from a plain contradiction in terms. The evidence that any man 
can do what Carpenter here describes is not only wanting but im- 
possible. As Ireland adds, "It is certainly a bold statement to say 
that a man can add up a column of figures without the mind being 
conscious of any of them. Common-sense would surely reply, that 
if the accountant were unconscious of even one of the figures, he 
would not add it up along with the rest, and his addition would thus 
be incorrect."* 



5. Hypnotization. 

The theory of unconscious cerebration is employed to 
explain the phenomena of Hypnotization (from the Greek 
vTTvoq, hypnos, sleep) or artificial sleep. The interest 
attaching to these phenomena requires that we should 
consider (1) the hypnotic state, (2) the hypnotic actions, 
and (3) the explanations offered. 

(1) The Hypnotic State. — The hypnotic state consists 
in the fixing of the attention of the person about to be 
hypnotized upon some particular object ; as, for example, 
the finger of the operator held before the eyes, or the sub- 
ject's own finger. A condition in outward appearance not 
unlike natural sleep is realized, although the mind is still 
open to suggestions. The subject remains conscious, but 
there is absence of self -suggested ideas and suspension of 
all voluntary action. The state may be produced without 
an operator by the subject himself. When in the hyp- 



INVOLUNTARY ACTION. 331 

notic state, the subject's consciousness is accessible to 
ideas suggested by another person. 

(2) The Hypnotic Actions. — In this state, the subject is 
open to any suggestion made by the person with whom he 
is in relation, but usually he is conscious of nothing else. 
When his arm is raised and he is told that he cannot lower 
it, he is powerless to do so. When he is told that he has 
a pain in a particular place, he acts as if he had. When 
directed to rise and walk and to perform other similar 
actions, he instantly obeys, usually with the eyes closed. 
There are degrees of hypnotization, and some persons seem 
incapable of assuming this state. In cases of complete 
hypnotization, the subject is powerless and his organism 
responds only to ideas suggested by the operator. 

(3) The Explanations offered. — Some attempt to explain 
these phenomena, which are now too well known to be 
disputed, by unconscious cerebration. This explanation 
is inadequate for the following reasons : {a) the subject is 
conscious in the hypnotic state ; ^ {H) the actions per- 
formed are suggested by ideas alone, and it is absurd to 
speak of unconscious ideas ; (c) the subject, although he 
does not ordinarily remember the events of hypnotic 
action, is able to recall them after waking, upon sug- 
gestion. The true explanation appears to be as follows : 
{a) the fixing of attention produces an arrest of the 
ordinary activities of the brain \ (i) the ordinary activities 
of the brain being arrested, a condition of unstable equi- 
lihrium is produced ; {c) this unstable equilibrium renders 
easy an involuntary ideo-motor action when any particular 
idea is formed by suggestion in the consciousness of the 
subject ; {d) an idea is suggested to the mind of the sub- 
ject by the hypnotizer ; and (e) this idea reacts involuur 



332 PSYCHOLOGY. 

tarily upon the brain, producing a corresponding ideo- 
motor action. All is involuntary, but all takes place 
through consciousness. In sound sleep, when conscious- 
ness is suspended, if it ever is wholly suspended (page 19), 
suggestions have no effect unless they awaken the sleeper, 
who then comes into voluntary command of his faculties 
and is not automatically influenced by suggestions. The 
state of hypnotism seems to be one in which "Will is sur- 
rendered and ideo-motor action is left automatic. 

The history and theories of Hypnotism are too full of compli- 
cated details for satisfactory treatment in an elementary work. 
Those who are interested in the subject may obtain information by 
consulting articles in the encyclopedias on " Mesmerism," "Odyle," 
"Electro-biology," etc. The phenomena now known under the 
name of "Hypnotism" were taken out of the almost exclusive pos- 
session of charlatans and fanatics by James Braid, an English ex- 
perimenter, who, in 1841, laid the foundations of a scientific treat- 
ment of these obscure facts. They have since been extensively 
discussed by Carpenter, in his "Mental Physiology," and by many 
others. Many very remarkable examples are to be found in '* Phan- 
tasms of the Living," by Edmund Gurney and others, published for 
the Society for Psychical Research. The discussions include hypno- 
tization at a distance. Shorter accounts may be found in "Mind," 
volumes VI., p. 98, by G. Stanley Hall; IX., p. 110, by E. Gurney; 
IX„ p. 477, by Gurney; and XII., p. 212 and 397, by the same. An 
article on "Reaction-time in the Hypnotic State," by Hall, may be 
found in YIII., p. 170. Hypnotism has been applied to curative 
purposes, and a full account of the results and the theory of 
hypnotic therapeutics may be found ;n "De la Suggestion," par le 
Dr. H. Bernheim. 

6. Somnambulism. 

Hypnotization is closely allied to Somnambulism (from 
the Latin somnus, sleep, and amhuldre, to walk), or sleep- 
walking. This phenomenon assumes a great variety of 



INVOLUNTARY ACTION, 333 

forms. Persons talk, walk, write, and climb dangerous 
places, without being awake. Such experiences are 
usually forgotten by the 'subject after waking, but may 
be remembered when he is again in a similar condition, 
and sometimes when the link of association is given by 
suggestion. There is evidence that the somnambulist is 
conscious when in the somnambulistic state, but only of 
those ideas and actions which are connected with his per- 
formances. Somnambulism seems to be a form of ideo- 
motor action, but it is not certain that Will is not some- 
times present. 

It would be easy to cite a great number of interesting and curi- 
ous cases. The following is narrated of a distinguished Scotch 
lawyer; " This eminent person had been consulted respecting a case 
of great importance and much difficulty ; and he had been studying 
it with intense anxiety and attention. After several days had been 
occupied in this manner, he was observed by his wife to rise from his 
bed in the night, and go to a writing-desk which stood in the bed- 
room. He then sat down, and wrote a long paper, which he carefully 
put by in his desk, and returned to bed. The following morning he 
told his wife that he had had a most interesting dream, — that he had 
dreamt of delivering a clear and luminous opinion respecting a case 
which had exceedingly perplexed him ; and that he would give any- 
thing to recover the train of thought which had passed before him in 
his dream. She then directed him to the writing-desk, where he 
found the opinion clearly and fully written out; and this was after- 
wards found to be perfectly correct." ^ In this case, there was evi- 
dently consciousness of the writing at the time it was performed, 
afterwards remembered dimly as a dream. In the following case, 
there was no memory except in the somnambulistic state. * ' A 
servant-maid, rather given to sleep-walking, missed one of her 
combs ; and being unable to discover it, on making a diligent search, 
charged a fellow-servant who slept in the same room with having 
taken it. One morning, however, she awoke with the comb in her 
hand ; so that there can be no doubt that she had put it away on a 
previous night, without preserving any waking remembrance of the 



334 PSYCHOLOGY. 

occurrence ; and that she had recovered it when the remembrance of 
its hiding-place was brought to her by the recurrence of the state in 
which it had been secreted."' 



7. Ijanguage. 

The involuntary use of language illustrates the extent 
to which a purely automatic activity may reach. Who 
has not cheerfully said, ^^Good morning," to a friend 
casually met upon the street, and suffered from confusion 
by the immediate recollection that it was evening ? Here 
the impulse has been given to the vocal organs to say some- 
thing, and they have automatically uttered something 
absurd. The linguistic mechanism includes auditory or- 
gans, through which we receive sounds, and the phonetic 
organs, such as the tongue, lips, and teeth, with which we 
produce sounds. Between these there are lines of com- 
munication in the nervous system. Certain sounds, as 
exclamations of pain, are purely reflex. Habituated by 
frequent use to the formation of definite sounds, the 
phonetic machinery sometimes acts involuntarily. As 
language is the instrument of thinking, we sometimes 
think in audible sounds. Many persons never read to 
themselves without moving the lips. Even when no out- 
ward signs are given, it is probable that the internal parts 
of the linguistic machinery are at work, and this silent 
thinking in words has been called " intra-cranial speech." 

The mechanism of language associations may be better under- 
stood by reference to Figure 23. Let 7 be a sensor impression. By 
hearing it may pass to the auditory centre in the brain, A. By sight 
it may pass to the visual centre, V. By touch it may pass to the 
tactile centre, T. Thus, a word may be known as a sound, as a col- 
location of letters, or as a group of sensations of touch, as in the 



mVOLUNTARY ACTION. 335 

raised letters of the blind. Now when associations are formed be- 
tween these, sounds may be translated into sights, as when one 
writes notes of a lecture to which he listens. In the reverse case, 
sights may be translated into sounds, as when one reads aloud. The 
circuit, then, would be as follows: In writing from dictation, the 
impression, /, goes to the auditory centre, A, then to the speaking 
centre, S, for translation into words, then to the writing centre, W, 
and finally issues as written expression, E. This result, written 
words, may then be received as a new impression, J, passing to the 
visual centre, V, thence to the writing centre, W, being translated 
into speech at S, and issuing through that centre as a new expres- 
sion, E, this time spoken. If anything like this takes place in the 
brain, it is evident that disease at A would be deafness, disease at Y 
would be blindness, disease at S would be aphasia, disease at W 
would be agraphia. Ferrier and others hold that something of this 
kind is true. He localizes the organ of speech in the region of the 
posterior extremity of the third left frontal convolution of the 
cerebrum (Figure 4). The paralysis of this centre is said to result in 
the loss of speech, or aphasia.^ 

The French philosopher, J. G. Cabanis (1757-1808), seriously 
maintained that thought is identical with language, and language is 
simply the automatic movement of the organs of speech. Max 
Miiller borders upon the same doctrine, though he does not explic- 
itly state it, in his motto, "No reason without language, no lan- 
guage without reason." "While, as we have seen, there is no rational 
speech without reason (page 137), it is by no means clear that there 
is no reason without language. Laura Bridgman had reason before 
she had language. Every child has reason without language. Rea- 
son is the pre-condition of rational speech, not identical with it. 
In the process of naming, the mind first abstracts and selects a 
quality to be named (page 137). If we are sometimes betrayed by 
the automatic action of our vocal mechanism into blunders which 
seem ridiculous, we also know that in all constructive thought the 
ideas outstrip the words and we frequently have ideas for which we 
can find no words. Language is so far from being automatic that 
every dialect furnishes evidence of an organizing power conscious of 
its own formative influence and expressing its freedom of choice in 
terms and propositions that distinguish sharply between the involun- 
tary and the voluntary. 



336 PSYCHOLOGY. 

8. The Acquisition of L<anguage. 

Language has to be consciously acquired by every indi- 
vidual for himself. Parentage is not known to give any 
advantage in acquiring a particular language^ for the 
child learns only what he is taught. The steps are (a) 
attention to particular sounds, those who are deaf being 
usually also mute ; (b) association of meaning with sounds, 
which reveals the intervention of mind and the insuffi- 
ciency of automatism to explain language ; (c) imitation ot 
sounds, which can result at first only from the tendency 
to find a means of rational communication ; and {d) co- 
ordination of sensor and motor processes until they become 
almost automatic. It is evident that the acquisition of 
language requires a rational intelligence and a certain 
amount of conscious self-direction. 

If language and reason were identical, it is evident that reason 
could be imparted to any being capable of language. The parrot 
utters articulate sounds with a startling accuracy, and when we hear 
this bird pronouncing whole sentences, as it may be taught to do, it 
seems as if it possessed a corresponding intelligence. But it requires 
very little investigation to convince us that this is a mistake, that 
the parrot does not understand its utterances, and produces 
them in a purely automatic fashion. The most sagacious of the 
domestic animals do, indeed, sometimes seem to understand simple 
words or short sentences, but there is room for gross self-deception • 
here also. It is evident, however, that we cannot arrange any 
conventional system of signs of such a nature as to establish rational 
communication with dogs and horses ; much less can they produce 
such a system themselves. It is possible that the admirers of animal 
intelligence, who resent every depreciation of it as if this deprecia- 
tion were an insult to their dumb friends, may have the patience to 
attempt to evoke by a system of signs some of the peculiarities of 
the canine and equine consciousness! Science, in the meantime, 
respectfully awaits these desirable results, which would throw so 



INVOLUNTARY ACTION. 337 

much light on comparative psychology; but, until they have been 
produced, must be content to draw a broad line between man and 
all these animals and attribute to him a rational power, and a power 
of self-direction as a consequence of it, which it does not find in them, 

9. Habit and Education. 

There are two extremes of doctrine held by educational 
theorists : the first regards all human actions as acquired ; 
the second regards them all as native. The truth prob- 
ably lies between these extremes. No action can be 
acquired unless a faculty for it belongs to the constitution 
of the being who attempts to perform the action ; every 
action can be rendered more perfect by habituation. The 
laws of habit are of prime importance in education, for its 
principal aim is to induce certain habits of mind and body 
in the pupil. And yet its aim is not to produce mere 
automata. Pursuit of truth, submission to rightful au- 
thority, and industry are general habits absolutely nec- 
essary to a well-educated mind. The first condition of 
progress in knowledge is the formation of proper habits 
of study. The school cannot impart great learning, but 
it may form in the learner habits that will, in the course 
of a life-time, lead to great accomplishments. Attention, 
patience, and activity are the cardinal virtues of scholar- 
ship, and these are the most precious fruitage of the 
school. In the earlier stages of education, the first duty 
of a teacher is that of a drill -master. His efficiency does 
not depend so much upon the knowledge he imparts as 
upon the habits he induces. But there is danger of 
extreme habituation. No mere machine, however perfect, 
can perform the functions of a man. As the mechanical 
theory of mental action fails to account for the whole of 



338 PSYCHOLOGY. 

the psychical life, so the mechanical theory of training 
fails to produce an educated mind. Therefore, while the 
teacher should endeavor to aid the learner in forming 
proper hahits, and thus render certain actions as nearly 
as possible automatic, he should not forget that by this 
very process the power of self-direction is liberated for new 
adaptations, and this power should be guided along the 
path of progress. 

In this section, on ** Acquired Action," we have 
considered :— 

1, Definition of Acquired Action, 

2, The Origin of Habits, 

3, The Laws of Habit, 

4, Cerebration. 

5, Hypnoti^ation, 

6, Somnambulism, 

7, Language, 

8, The Acquisition of Language, 

9, Habit and Education. 

References : (1) Carpenter's Mental Physiology, pp. 533, 537. 
(2) .W. W. Ireland's The Blot upon the Brain, pp. 326, 337. (3) 
Carpenter's Mental Physiology, pp. 539, 530. (4) Ireland's The Blot 
upon the Brain, p. 339. (5) Mind, for October, 1884, p. 481. (6) 
Abercrombie's Intellectual Powers, p. 306. (7) Carpenter's Mental 
Physiology, p. 596. (8) Farrier's Functions of the Brain, pp. 444, 
445. 



CHAPTER H. 

VOLUNTARY ACTION. 

DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 

Having examined in detail the different forms of in- 
voluntary action, we now •proceed to consider voluntary- 
action. That there is such action, we cannot doubt ; for, 
if we did not know it in our experience, we should con- 
sider all action involuntary, and the distinction would not 
be made. We are conscious of both voluntary and invol- 
untary actions, as taking place in us, but in the case of 
voluntary actions we are conscious of being causes, not 
simply instruments. We have to consider : (1) how we 
are influenced to action through our Sensibility — or 
Solicitation ; (2) how we represent to ourselves an action, 
before it is performed, through our Intellect — or Delibera- 
tion ; and (3) how we finally execute an action by Will — 
or Volition. We shall then conclude with some account 
of the Development of Will. 



SEGTION L 
SOLICITATiON. 
1. Definition of Solicitation. 
Solicitation is a process of invitation to action as dis- 
tinguished from compulsion. When we are moved by a 



340 PSTCMOLOGT. 

physical force acting upon us bodily, as when we are swept 
before a tempest, we are compelled to move in the manner 
determined by this force. But we are capable of a differ- 
ent kind of action. Having tasted of a certain food and 
having found it pleasant, we are influenced to perform 
certain actions, in order to procure more of that food. 
In this case, we are solicited, but not compelled, to act. 
We direct ourselves in the performance of this action 
for a specific end. 

• 

2. Motors and Motives Distinguished. 

A physical force, whether outside of us or within us, 
produces certain movements which are capable of meas- 
urement and calculation. Such forces are called motors. 
The human body, as a complex mechanism, is moved by 
such motors. All action resulting from the play of these 
motors is involuntary. Solicitation, however, influences 
us through motives. A motive is not a physical force and 
has no physical properties. A motive is a reason, a pur- 
pose, or end of acting, addressed to a conscious intel- 
ligence and deriving its value from the prospect of some 
pleasure to be afforded or some pain to be avoided. 

The modern doctrine of the correlation and conservation of 
forces may be stated as follows : There exists a definite quantity of 
energy whose different modes are correlated and convertible and 
which is absolutely persistent, being subject neither to increase nor 
diminution. Whatever happens is caused by some transformation 
of this definite quantity of force. Some would go so far as to apply 
this theory to sensations and volitions, which are considered as 
phenomena of the organism, and as transmutations of energy. It is 
a mere assumption to regard sensations and volitions as phenomena 
of the organism ; they are phenomena of consciousness. It has not 



VOLUNTARY ACTION. 341 

been shown that consciousness is an effect of which the organism is 
the only cause. We know that the intensity of a sensation does not 
increase in direct proportion to the stimulus (page 60). We cannot 
affirm that more physical force is expended when consciousness is 
produced than when it is not produced. That consciousness, with- 
out being correlated to the physical forces, intervenes to interrupt a 
reflex act, we know by experience in our successful efforts to inhibit 
such reflex acts (page 315). If consciousness has no power to inter- 
vene between a sensor impression and a motor action, it loses its 
entire significancy (page 96). While sensation and volition cannot 
be proved to abstract any force from the circuit of physical forces, 
they cannot be proved to add any. The law of conservation of 
energy may be universally true ; we certainly cannot contradict it. 
But without the loss of force the physical circuit may affect the con- 
scious self by inducing it to act upon the occasion of its presenta- 
tions, and the conscious self may affect the physical circuit by a 
reaction upon it that does not increase the amount of force. We 
know too little of the action of any physical force whatever to say 
that one system may not influence another without a loss of energy. 
The signalman uses no more energy in showing a red light than in 
showing a white light when they stand side by side, but it makes a 
vast difference with the fate of a train which light is shown. The 
effort of the engineeer is the same whether he sees a red light or a 
white one, but the difference is momentous. To say that the sight 
of the red light physically forces the engineer to shut off steam and 
throw on the air-brakes, while the sight of the white light inhibits 
any such action, is to make him out the helpless and irresponsible 
machine that all human experience shows he is not. If the law of 
the conservation and correlation of energy is universal in the realm 
of physical forces, there is certainly a superorganic power in the 
constitution of man. If there is not, all human action falls fatally 
under the category of mechanical action, personal responsibility is 
completely imaginary, and the well-marked distinction between 
voluntary and involuntary action is obliterated. 

3. The Origin of Motives. 

A motive can exist only in a conscious intelligence. It 
is not an efficient cause, but a final cause (page 189). It 



342 PSYCHOLOGY. 

is an idea, not a thing. My motive in procuring palatable 
food is the enjoyment of it. That enjoyment is not pres- 
ent, but future. It is the idea of enjoyment that prompts 
me to action. A motive, then, requires the formation of 
an idea of some expected good, which then constitutes a 
reason for acting. The action is not caused by the 
motive, but the motive is accepted by the agent who is 
himself the cause of the action. This is what conscious- 
ness teaches us in the analysis of any voluntary act. In 
reply to the question why have you acted thus? we 
answer, For such or such a purpose. 



Motives have been considered by the American theologian and 
philosopher, Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758), and many others as if 
they were physical forces impelling the soul to action. Edwards 
says: "If every act of the "Will is excited by a motive, then that 
motive is the cause of the act of the Will." ^ And again: "It is 
that motive which is the strongest that determines the Will." * 
This is to reason as if motives were motors, and to treat the subject 
as if it were a problem to be worked out according to the laws of 
physical force. This false analogy has resulted in a complete phys- 
ical fatalism for every mind that has followed it to its logical con- 
clusions. But it is evident that the analogy is a false one. The 
laws of physical force cannot be applied to the operations of an in- 
telligent agent. A motive, or expectation of satisfaction through 
the realization of an end, does not necessitate a particular line of 
conduct. There are, indeed, appetites which urge us to the immedi- 
ate gratification of a craving. Here is exhibited that "law of the 
members " which wars against the "law of the mind," and which 
cannot always be resisted. Bat these are forces that necessitate 
action. They are motors, not motives. They are not solicitations 
to action so much as compulsions. Having examined so fully in 
detail this involuntary element in our lives, it is not necessary to 
dwell longer upon it. It is important, however, that every one 
should distinguish from it that other element in experience which 
we call voluntary. 



VOLUNTARY ACTION, 343 

4. The Qualities of Motives. 

Motives do not possess quantity in the sense that phys- 
ical forces do. They cannot be measured and equated as 
quantities of force can. Motives, however, possess qual- 
ity. They may be characterized as '^worthy'' or ''un- 
worthy," '^good" or ''bad," "right" or "wrong." The 
quality of motives is determined entirely by their relation 
to the law of action which the agent knows is binding 
upon him. 

The difference between quantity and quality in the preceding 
paragraph may require explanation. So far as the quantity of force 
is concerned, we are certain that it cannot be increased or dimin- 
ished by an act of Will. It having been imparted to the individual, 
his power is measured, for the moment, by his amount of force. 
Quality, however, cannot be thus measured, and hence many differ- 
ent kinds of action may result. To illustrate this distinction : It is 
undoubted that the same amount of force may be employed in 
shivering a block of marble into fragments, or in chiseling it into a 
human form. In the one case, we have a mass of rubbish ; in the 
other, the immortal Greek Slave. Thus far the law holds good, that 
no new physical force is created and no force is lost. But what 
influence, that is, what qualitative power, has the mass of marble 
wantonly broken to draw men together to see it and to excite their 
admiration ? The Greek Slave, on the other hand, attracts thou- 
sands, and will continue to do so as long as it exists. Is the attract- 
ive force of this beautiful piece of statuary correlated with the 
physical power put forth by the artist in creating it ? Is the law of 
the conservation and correlation of physical forces, then, violated ? 
Not at all. The attraction of the statue lies in its qualities. Quality 
is not a product of physical force, but of intelligence. Intelligence, 
then, may create qualities which move vast multitudes through suc- 
cessive ages I Here is the emergence of a new factor. Virtue and 
vice are not quantities, but qualities. It requires as much physical 
force to steal a dollar from another's pocket as to take a dollar from 
one's own and give it to a worthy pauper. The motives, however, 
differ in quality. The immeasurable distance between honesty and 



344 PSYCHOLOGY, 

dishonesty, innocence and guilt, holiness and sinfulness, is wholly 
a matter of quality. Moral impotency, wherever it exists, is not a 
question of the quantity of force, but of the quality of the character. 

5. The Relation of Motives to Feeling. 

A motive derives its value from its relation to feeling. 
If things had no power to affect our feelings in any man- 
ner, they would not solicit us to action, for they could 
suggest no motives. There would be no reasons for 
acting. Inaction would produce the same result as action. 
Hence, no effort would be put forth by us. 

This is well understood by the rhetorician, and furnishes the 
ground for that appeal to the feelings which is so essential in all 
practical eloquence. We should distinguish between reasons for 
believing and reasons for doing. We are led to believe by argument, 
but our beliefs do not always lead us to act. In order that we 
should act, there must be reasons not only for believing certain 
propositions true, but for considering such propositions as grounds 
of action. Suppose I know that, at the present moment, a ship is 
sinking in the middle of the ocean. I may know that, but I do 
not act. My action will not save the ship. But suppose I know 
that a person next door is starving, and that I can save his life by 
sending him food. My sympathy is touched, I imagine myself in 
his place, I imagine how I shall feel in the future if this person 
starves to death and I do not save him. I wish to avert that death, 
those sufferings, and my own feelings of regret. Here are motives, 
or reasons not only why I should helieve, but why I should act. Now 
the business of the orator, who would move men to action, is to 
make them feel, for in the feelings lie the materials of motives. The 
method by which feeling is produced has been considered in another 
place (page 253). 

6. The Classification of Motives. 

The relation of motives to feeling furnishes ground for 
their classification. Every variety of feeling affords the 



VOLUNTARY ACTION. 345 

basis of a motive j for, as it has some quality of pain or 
pleasure, it may be an object of desire or aversion. As 
these vary in different persons, so the value of motives 
varies. A motive very influential with one person, will 
have little influence with another. Voluntary action is 
not, then, the result of a conflict of motives, each one of 
which has a particular force, so that one may be called 
^'^ stronger"^ than another. What we figuratively call the 
'^ strength'^ of a motive is the esteem in which an intelli^ 
gent agent holds it. 

The relative value of a motive, according to the doctrine just 
stated, depends upon the conscious agent. It is difficult to see how 
any one who has analyzed the process of voluntary action can doubt 
this. But it may be said that these variations in the individual 
characters need to be accounted for. There may be a qualitative 
degeneration of an agent that does not follow of necessity from his 
original constitution, but, possibly, from the extent of his power. A 
physical force cannot make any aberration, but a force endowed with 
intelligence, capable of forming purposes and pursuing self -chosen 
ends, may neglect those rules of action which alone can guide it 
safely, and thus at last wholly miss the natural ends of its being. To 
such a being, eternal vigilance would be the price of liberty. Like 
a man walking on a narrow bridge, which might be passed in safety 
with constant care, the very extent of liberty might give opportunity 
for a fall. 

7. Solicitation and Education, 

Solicitation is an important factor in education, for 
education is the drawing out of the learner^s powers 
through his own efforts. The spontaneous energies of a 
child impel him to action ; but, if these are undirected, 
they result in a certain round of performances having few 
new or useful results. Nothing is so natural to a child as 
play, in which his surplus force tends to expend itself. 



346 PSYCHOLOGY, 

The business of a teacher is to aid in inducing him to put 
forth effort in a manner that will produce useful results. 
To accomplish this, motives must be presented. Rewards 
and punishments are, therefore, instituted. At first, 
these may be wholly physical ; but, if higher motives are 
not supplied, when these are withdrawn, the learner is not 
prepared for liberty. The dangers of motives drawn from 
emulation have been pointed out (page 289). The noblest 
and most lasting motives to study are found in the hope 
of personal self-perfection. The development of one^s 
powers is certainly a natural end of action, and it should 
be made the great motive in educational work. Even 
small boys are cheered and stimulated with the exhorta- 
tion, '' Be a little man, now ! ^^ To be a man, in the best 
sense, is the noblest motive at all ages of life. 

In this section, on " Solicitation," we have con- 
sidered :— 

1. Definition of Solicitation. 

2. Motors and Motives Distinguished. 

3. The Origin of Motives, 

4. The Qualities of Motives. 

5. The Relation of Motives to Feeling. 

6. The Classification of Motives. 

7. Solicitation and Education. 

Reference: (1) Edwards' On the Willi Part II., Section 10. 



VOLUNTARY ACTION, 347 

SECTION 11* 

DELIBERATION. 

1. The Field of Consciousness. 

If we examine the contents of our minds at any moment 
of time, we find that there are many coexistent elements 
in the field of consciousness. Whenever any end is con- 
templated by the mind as affording possible gratification, 
there are associated with it other elements of a different 
character. It is seldom that a single motive is presented 
to consciousness without the presence of others. This 
complexity of conscious states furnishes the conditions of 
deliberation. 

The question has often been raised, How many different objects 
can the mind simultaneously regard with distinctness? Hamilton 
replies : "I find the problem stated and differently answered by- 
different philosophers, and apparently without a knowledge of each 
other. By Charles Bonnet the mind is allowed to have a distinct 
notion of six objects at once ; by Abraham Tucker the number is 
limited to four ; while Destutt-Tracy again amplifies it to six. The 
opinion of the first and last philosophers appears to me correct. You 
can easily make the experiment for yourselves, but you must beware 
of grouping the objects into classes. If you throw a handful of 
marbles on the floor, you will find it diffcult to view at once more 
than six, or seven at most, without confusion ; but if you group 
them into twos, or threes, or fives, you can comprehend as many 
groups as you can units ; because the mind considers these groups 
only as units, — it views them as wholes, and throws their parts out 
of consideration. You may perform the experiment also by an act 
of imagination." * It is a matter of small importance precisely how 
many distinct objects or ideas may be held before consciousness at 
once; the important fact is that our states of consciousness are com- 



348 PSYCHOLOGY. 

plex. In the case of the hypnotized subject (page 331), this complex- 
ity is reduced, by means of a fixed attention, to a simplicity of con- 
sciousness in which only one idea, that suggested by the operator, is 
present at a time. It is this that renders the person practically an 
automaton. But in the normal, waking consciousness many ideas 
are present at the same time. In certain highly emotional states, 
however, all ideas but one seem to be excluded from conscious- 
ness. This is the condition of a person wholly overcome with a 
comical idea, whose laughter then becomes involuntary and, for a 
time, uncontrollable. A man who has been grossly insulted is 
sometimes seized with a dominant idea, that of striking the person 
who has insulted him, his anger excluding, for the moment, every 
other idea. This condition is similar to that of a monomaniac, or 
victim of a fixed idea, and anger is often regarded as a kind of 
incipient insanity. If indulged in, it often leads to complete loss of 
mental balance. But the normal mental condition is one in which 
many ideas are present, and, hence, deliberation is possible. Juris- 
prudence takes account of the emotional condition of a culprit, and 
it is generally recognized that overpowering emotion interferes with 
deliberative power and so, to a certain extent, renders a man less 
master of himself and more of an automaton. 



2. Attention. 

Beyond dispute, the soul has the power of attention, or 
of concentrating its energies upon a single object or group 
of objects. This power is possessed in various degrees, 
according to the training the mind has received ; but all 
persons, except the idiotic and the deranged, possess it in 
some degree. When a motive is presented soliciting the 
soul to action of a particular kind for a particular end, 
the power of attention enables the soul to detain that 
motive and exclude other elements of consciousness from 
contemplation, or to concentrate its energies upon some 
other element of consciousness and thus escape the influ- 
ence of that motive. If this were the only form of volun- 



VOLUNTARY ACTION. 349 

tary power possessed by the soul, it would be sufficient to 
insure, in some degree, its self-direction. This power 
seems incapable of further analysis, but is manifest in 
every rational consciousness. 

Even such a physiologist as Carpenter, who lays much more 
stress on organic conditions than on the revelations of consciousness, 
strenuously argues against automatism in the exercise of attention. 

He says: ''Reflection on our own mental experiences will satisfy us, 
that the variations in the relative strength of motives mainly arise 
from the degree of attention that we give to them respectively. An 
excited feeling which would soon die out if left to itself, will retain 
its potency, or even gain augmented force, if we allow ourselves to 
brood over it ; whilst, on the other hand, the power of those remoter 
considerations which deliberation suggests, increases in proportion 
as they are dwelt upon. And just as, in the case of two magnets, 
we may reverse their relative attractions by changing their respect- 
ive distances from the iron between them, so can each Ego who has 
acquired the power of directing his own course of thought and feel- 
ing, alter the relative potency of different sets of motives, by deter- 
minately directing his attention to those which would draw him in 
one direction, and by partially or completely excluding those of an 
opposite tendency from his mental view." ' He then answers the 
objection, that the fixation of attention is really due to the superior 
strength of the motive itself, by saying : "No experience of which 
I am conscious is more real to me, than that if I did not maJce an 
effort to keep my attention fixed, the desire alone would fail to do 
it." ^ He here brings into notice, what each person can test for him- 
self, that the act of voluntary attention involves a conscious effort 
of the soul. If this fact of consciousness be not accepted as decisive, 
then the psychological method is abandoned for the uncertain one 
of physical analogy; which, in turn, is worthless unless we accept 
the facts of consciousness which it offers. 



3. Compound Attention. 

In addition to the simple attention just described, we 
are capable of compound attention, or of attending alter- 



350 PSYCHOLOGY. 

nately to different objects and ideas. This enables us to 
carry on a process of deliberation by which, we compare 
one motive with another in the field of consciousness. 
Thus, for example, a hungry man, seeing bread in a 
baker^s window, is tempted to break the glass and steal a 
loaf of bread. The motive here is the prospect of satisfy- 
ing his hunger. But the man is not a mere machine, 
impelled by a single force. He knows that, if he is 
caught, he will be punished as a thief. Hie knows, too, 
that this is a wrong act which he is considering and that 
his conscience will reprove him. Now he can fix his 
attention upon one of these restraining motives. The 
impulse to break the glass thus loses its power. The ele- 
ment of time is an important factor, for the longer he 
delays and deliberates, the more numerous will be the 
restraining motives which arise in his consciousness. 

Even Bain, who finds most of his explanations in physiology, 
admits this power of compound attention, although,— as it seems 
without sufficient warrant, — he thinks its exercises must be confined 
to ** rare instances." He says : "We can work ourselves up into a 
loving mood, by forcing the attention and the train of ideas upon all 
the kindness and affection that we may have experienced in the past. 
By a similar impulse of the Will, selecting, out of the current of 
intellectual reproduction, the catalogue of wrongs that have been 
inflicted on us, we succeed in warming up the glow of indignation. 
Dwelling in like manner on the catalogue of good actions and quali- 
ties, the self-complacent condition is nursed into being. So we 
can do something to turn aside a gush of feeling that has come over 
us, by diverting the attention from the exciting causes, and still 
more effectually by forcing the thoughts into the opposite channel, 
as when we silence a querulous fit by coercing the mind into the act 
of considering the favorable side of our situation. We do for our- 
selves what our friends, advisers, comforters, and the public preacher, 
or moralist, endeavor to do for us, that is, to present forcibly the 
thoughts, the facts, and the reflections bearing upon the temper 



VOLUNTARY ACTION. 351 

that we desire to put in the ascendant." * It is true that Bain con- 
siders this process " a hard one," as all of us who have attempted it 
(and who has not?) will confess. It is sufficient if it be possible. 



■i 4. Objects of Deliberation. 

The act of deliberation is a complex one. There are 
three distinct objects that may be made matters of delib- 
eration. These are as follows : 

(1) We may deliberate concerning the end to be attained. 
Thus, there is a question which is better, to take the 
bread in the baker^s window and suffer imprisonment 
and the pangs of conscience ; or to do without this bread 
and have freedom and an approving conscience. 

(2) We may also deliberate concerning the means to be 
employed in order to obtain bread. There are other 
means than stealing. Here a great variety of plans and 
projects may be suggested, each of which will occupy the 
attention. 

(3) We may, finally, deliberate concerning the time 
when the effort decided upon shall be put forth, and thus 
a delay may arise giving opportunity for more deliber- 
ation. 

We see by this analysis how far the human mind is removed from 
a machine impelled in a particular manner by an irresistible force. 
In proportion as one deliberates, he removes his final action from 
the sphere of mechanical necessity. The brute animal, not having 
the faculties for reflective thought, cannot deliberate as man can ; 
having no faculty of general intuition, he cannot be restrained by 
a rule of rectitude or general principle. He is urged to action by 
his appetites and desires, immediate impulsions which meet with no 
restraint, except as restraint is artificially supplied by man. In the 
wild state, animals seem almost wholly under the dominion of their 
appetites and instincts. In a state of domestication, having received 



36^ PSYCHOLOGY. 

some training from man, they are governed in part by the fear of 
punishment and, it may be, by affections which they acquire for 
their benefactors. But man rises into a wholly different sphere. 
He is influenced by considerations of abstract reason, by principles 
which have no material equivalents, but exist only for an intelligence 
that can discern them. All social judgment and Judicial procedure 
are based upon man's possession of this higher nature. In so far as 
one can not deliberate, his act is extenuated. In so far as his act is 
the result of prolonged deliberation, it is unpardonable, if it is 
criminal. The killing of a man in a heat of passion, under great 
provocation, and the killing of a man with " malice aforethought," 
brooded over and deliberately planned, are acts very differently 
judged and punished by all human tribunals. 



5. The Place of Judgment in Deliberation. 

Deliberation involves a series of judgments. This 
removes the final determination of the course of action 
from the sphere of physical cause and effect. The 
original solicitation to act may have come from a physical 
cause, as the sight of the baker^s bread in the eyes of a 
hungry man, and it may result in a physical act, as the 
breaking of the glass and the taking of the bread. But 
between the solicitation and the act lie a series of purely 
psychical actions. The chain of physical causes is, there- 
fore, broken. An act of judgment is an intellectual act. 
It cannot be shown to have any physical correlative. But 
it is from this act of judgment, from the decision to steal 
the bread, that the act proceeds. 

Judgment, in its various forms, is the most characteristic and 
universal act of our intellectual life. It is present in every intelli- 
gent operation and is the form in which all that we can call knowl- 
edge is presented to consciousness. " Judgment," says Ladd, " is a 
form of mental phenomena for the essential part of which no phys- 
ical equivalent can be discovered or even conceived of." ^ When 



VOLUNTARY ACTION. 353 

judgments intervene between the presentation of motives and volun- 
tary actions, and actions follow as a result of judgments, the circuit 
of sensori-motor action is broken and a new determination is intro- 
duced. 

6. Suspension of Action. 

When the purpose to perform an act has been formed, 
it is by no means necessary that it should be immediately 
executed. It may be delayed for a long period. This 
suspension of action admits of no physical explanation. 
If a judgment were of the nature of a motor, the moment 
it was formed the executive machinery would begin to 
execute the act, as the parts of a locomotive begin to move 
when the hand of the engineer turns on the steam. But 
such is not the case. Judgment indicates the volition 
that is, at the proper time, to be made, but judgment is 
not volition. A purpose lies dormant in the soul, await- 
ing its opportunity of realization. New motives come 
and go. Physical conditions wholly change. Can any one 
doubt that the persistence of a purpose is a psychical, 
not a physical determination ? 

The human soul is sometimes portrayed as the scene of a per- 
petual conflict, of which it is a passive witness, and whose events it 
simply records without power to modify them. How remote from 
the truth this representation is, every one knows who has examined 
his own mental experience. The formation of a purpose steadily 
kept before the mind in spite of all opposition, is a refutation of this 
ascription of pure passivity to the soul. It is true that, in many 
matters, we suffer ourselves to be the creatures of chance. It is 
easier to drift with the current than to oppose it, and we often prefer 
to submit to influences external to ourselves rather than to endure 
the strains and hardships of a struggle with opposing forces. A 
boatman in the current of a river may either steer his boat or drift. 
The fact that he is content to drift does not show that he cannot 
steer. Every man who has failed in accomplishing many of hi" 



354 PSYCHOLOGY. 

purposes in life well knows that this failure is owing to his weak- 
ness of purpose as" well as to the resistance of circumstances. When 
the failure has relation to moral conduct, our consciousness assures 
us that the violation of moral law is not so much owing to the force 
of circumstances as to our own weakness. 



7. Deliberation and Education. 

The power to reflect is characteristic of the human 
mind and distinguishes it from the instinctive nature of 
brutes. And yet the teacher finds that there is in children 
a natural aversion to reflection. This leads us to consider 
(1) the cultivation of thoughtfulness, and (2) the relation 
of enlightenment and punishment. 

(1) The Cultivation of Thoughtfulness.— It is perfectly 
natural for a healthy child to act impulsively. As we 
have seen (pages 20, 22), it would indicate a precocious 
self-consciousness if a child were very reflective. The 
conduct of a child is usually marked by thoughtlessness. 
The common excuse for wrong-doing is '^'I did not 
think. ^' In so far as the psychical life is surrendered to 
thoughtlessness, it sinks into the sphere of the involun- 
tary and impulsive. While this tendency is pardonable in 
children, because it is only by degrees that thoughtfulness 
can be developed, it is inexcusable in men. There comes 
a time to ^^put away childish things. ^^ The teacher aims 
at the cultivation of thoughtfulness, for this is necessary 
to the development of the voluntary as well as the intel- 
lectual powers. At last, thoughtfulness comes to be 
exacted, and to say, *'l did not think, ^^ is to criminate 
one's self. When we speak of *^' reaching the years of 
responsibility,^^ we mean that at a certain age thoughtful- 
ness, having become possible, is also obligatory. 



VOLUNTARY ACTION. 355 

(2) The relation of Enlightenment and Punishment. — 

To punish one for what he does not understand, is to 
make all punishment unavailing. It simply terrifies and 
brutalizes. In order to render pain a deterrent, it must 
be presented as an alternative to some action, so that a 
choice is presented. Unless the alternatives are under- 
stood, there is no appeal to intelligence. The parent who 
at one time whips a child and at another laughs at him 
for the same act, neutralizes the punishment ; for the 
child does not know when he will be punished and when 
he will not. Enlightenment should, therefore, always 
precede punishment. The impulse often is to punish an 
offender when the wrong act is done, regardless of his 
knowledge, and this is sometimes justified by saying that 
the child will know better next time. But if his act has 
proceeded from his ignorance and not from a wrong in- 
tention, the punishment is unnecessary and seems to the 
recipient unjust because he is conscious of no wrong. 
But when, after being told that a certain act will be 
punished, the act is performed and the punishment does 
not follow, the child'' s confidence in the veracity of its 
governor is weakened and government is destroyed. Ex- 
aggerated threats are seldom efficacious as deterrents, be- 
cause the child knows they will not be executed. Mild 
punishments administered firmly are more efficient than 
the most terrific onslaughts without rule or certainty. 
The hest government results from reasonable punishments 
which are known to be inevitable. Under such a system 
punishment of any kind is rarely necessary. The intelli- 
gence, appealed to and guided, soon becomes seLf-regu- 
lating. 



856 PSYCHOLOGY. 

In this section, on "Deliberation," we have con- 
sidered : — 

1, The Field of Consciousness, 

2. Attention. 

S, Compound Attention, 

4, Objects of Deliberation, 

5, The Place of Judgments in Deliberation, 

6, Suspension of Action, 

7, Deliberation and Education, 

References: (1) Hamilton's Lectures on Metaphysics, pp. 176, 
177. (2) Carpenter's Mental Physiology, p. 27. (3) Id. (4) Bain's 
The Emotions a/nd the Will, pp. 378, 379. (5) Ladd's Physiological 
Psychology, p. 594. 



SEGTIOIT in. 

VOLITION. 

1. The Nature of Volition. 

Volition (from the Latin velle, to will) is a particular act 
of Will. In order to emphasize its difference from other 
experiences, we shall distinguish it from compulsion, 
desire and motive. 

(1) Volition is not compulsion. — We are sometimes com- 
pelled to act in a particular manner. When this is the 
case, our action may be in opposition to our volition. 
Thus, a man is compelled by an officer of the law to go 
with him to prison. His volition is not to go. He goes 
under compulsion. 

(2) Volition is not desire. — One may will to do that 



VOLUNTARY ACTION, 357 

which he does not desire to do. Thus, a child may not 
desire to work when he desires to play, yet he is willing to 
do so and opposes his volition to his strongest desire. It 
may be said that, in this case, the strongest desire, on the 
whole, prevails. It is difficult to answer this objection, 
because so much turns upon the meaning attributed to 
words. We can simply appeal to experience, which will 
convince us that we do often act in opposition to our 
strongest desire. We may also note that the general con- 
sciousness that has created the distinctions of words in 
current language attests the truth of this position ; for, as 
Reid says, ^'I may desire meat or ease from pain ] but to 
say that I will meat or ease from pain, is not English.^' ^ 
Volition relates only to an act ; desire may relate to an 
object. 

(3) Volition is not motive. — A motive, as we have seen, 
is the expectation of satisfaction as the result of action. 
This cannot be identified with the volition to act, for it is 
the reason of the volition. The identification of motives 
with volitions would involve us in the absurdity of holding 
that we have as many volitions as we have motives, which 
would result in plain contradiction. 

If a motive be identified with an irresistible tendency, a desire be 
identified with such a tendency, and a volition, in turn, be identified 
with a desire, then, without doubt, every action is caused by motives. 
But how does this theory stand in the light of the facts of conscious- 
ness? A motive is not an irresistible tendency, an irresistible 
tendency is not a desire, and a desire is not a volition. In short, it 
is impossible to identify a volition, op act of Will, with anything 
else. It is an act sui generis, like an act of knowing. Whoever 
possesses Will and exercises it, knows what volition is ; just as one 
who possesses Intellect and exercises it, knows what knowing is. 
Whoever has not these faculties cannot form an idea of these acts. 



358 PSYCHOLOGY. 

It is difficult to describe them in language, but it is still possible to 
show that language, properly employed, will not permit of denying 
or confounding them. For each of the different psychical states or 
acts represented by such words as "motive," "tendency," "desire," 
and "volition," we have a separate word which cannot be used in- 
terchangeably with the others. If a volition is simply a dominant 
desire, if that desire is an irresistible tendency, and if that tendency 
is the only kind of a motive of which we are capable, — have we not 
obliterated entirely the distinction between voluntary and involun- 
tary action, and reduced all to a dead level of automatism? A true 
scientific procedure requires us, regardless of all theory, to discover, 
define, and express the distinctions made by consciousness. 

2. The Forms of Volition. 

Volition is always a particular act of Will^ as knowing 
is always a particular act of Intellect ; but, as we may 
distinguish between the forms of knowledge, so also we 
may distinguish between the forms of volition. We 
notice the following : 

(1) Attention. — This is, probably, the most rudimentary 
form of volition. It lies at the basis of all voluntary 
power. 

(2) Assent. — This is an act of Will with reference to a 
proposition. The truth of a proposition is determined by 
the Intellect, but the acceptance of it is a voluntary act. 
When doctrines and creeds are presented to the mind, 
they may be accepted or rejected, as well as examined and 
discussed. Sometimes the Will refuses to accept a prop- 
osition which the Intellect regards as true ; and, on the 
other hand, the Intellect sometimes fails to grasp even 
the meaning of a proposition which the Will accepts. As 
an example of the first, take the case of a person who is 
convinced that he ought to perform a particular duty, but 
will not perform it; as an example of the second, take 



VOLUNTARY ACTION. 359 

the case of a devout believer who assents to a creed with- 
out being able to comprehend it. 

(3) Choice. — When two ends of action are proposed, we 
may choose between them. A machine cannot choose. A 
man impelled by one irresistible tendency cannot choose. 
But, given two motives, one may accept the one and re- 
ject the other as a ground or reason of action. But there 
cannot be choice without at least two motives. It is, 
therefore, true that no man acts voluntarily without a 
motive. But motives are not the causes of voluntary 
action. They are simply indispensable conditions. If we 
are asked why we finally choose one course of action rather 
than another, we can only answer, that such was our voli- 
tion in the light of our estimate of the alternatives. The 
cause of the choice is ourselves. Whenever a constraining 
factor appears our action ceases to be voluntary. 

(4) Execution. — Attention, assent and choice are purely 
psychical acts. We have in addition the power to carry 
out our volitions in the sphere of physical motion. This 
is sometimes called executive volition. It is not a purely 
psychical, but a psycho-physical, operation. How the 
volition becomes translated into motion when we will to 
raise an arm, is as completely unknown to us as how a 
sense-impression is transformed into a perception. We 
can only say that there is provision in our psycho-physical 
constitution for the execution of volitions through the 
bodily organism. In performing such an act as raising an 
arm, we have no consciousness of the nervous and mus- 
cular apparatus by which the volition is executed. We 
simply fix the mind upon the idea of the act, will it tp 
take place, and it happens. That the idea of the action 
in some way reacts upon the organism is highly probable. 



360 PSYCHOLOGY, 

for we have already seen that Phantasy can reinstate cer- 
tain bodily conditions (page 90), that qualitative states of 
consciousness may produce quantitative effects in the 
organism (page 263), and that ideo-motor action may take 
place involuntarily (page 314). 

The relation of volition to physical causation presents a prob- 
lem of the greatest difficulty. The difficulty, however, grows out of 
our ignorance of physical force and its relations to its effects quite 
as much as it does out of anything mysterious in the nature of voli- 
tion. We know much of the conditions under which physical effects 
follow physical causes, but we know little or nothing about physical 
causes themselves. One set of phenomena, like the movements 
which produce friction, will produce another set, as those of heat ; 
and heat, at a certain degree of temperature, will produce com- 
bustion ; but there is much in these superficially common-place 
phenomena which no science can penetrate. The facts of volition 
and of consequences following volition are undeniable. We know 
as much of their connection as we do of the connection of a physical 
cause and its effect, that is, that they are related in the order of 
cause and effect, but no more. We here come face to face with the 
deepest mystery of our experience — the ultimate nature of force. 
But there is nothing in the constitution of our minds or in our ex- 
periences that leads us to doubt that a causal connection exists 
between volition and bodily action ; while, at the same time, there is 
nothing within the range of our knowledge that requires us to be- 
lieve that a volition either increases or diminishes the quantity of 
physical force in the body. Volition is qualitative, not quantitative. 
We cannot, by willing, add one cubit to the body, or make one hair 
black or white, but we can determine the hind of actions we will 
perform with the forces at our disposal. We find ourselves in pos- 
session of a marvellously adjusted and delicately poised mechanism 
which is, in health, obedient to our volitions. We find ourselves 
capable of attending, assenting, choosing, and executing, within 
certain limits, without constraint. We find and declare ourselves to 
be such beings. The facts are not in the least dependent upon any 
theory of physical forces. If it is proposed to reduce our volitions 
to terras of physical force, there lies before those who attempt this 



VOLUNTABY ACTION. 361 

explanation the mastery, first, of a theory of the nature of physical 
force which physicists will accept as satisfactory ; and, second, of a 
method of showing how the phenomena of which we are conscious 
can be expressed in such terms. The present theory of the correla- 
tion and conservation of forces offers little hope of success ; for the 
volitions of a Napoleon, for example, which changed the face of 
Europe, are wholly incommensurable with foot-pounds of force. If 
it be objected that the conscious soul cannot originate more than is 
concentrated into it by physical forces, as present in food and air, it 
may be asked how motion can anywhere originate, since it must be 
retraced to something else, and how it can ever change its direction, 
since nothing can act except as moved upon from without ? Whence 
it results, either that everything has eternally been what it now is, 
or that a Power above nature has caused things to be as they are by 
supplying an external impulse. If the former alternative be accepted, 
an unchanged course of nature is eternal. If the latter be accepted, 
it may be held that this Power has bestowed upon us a power of 
affecting the physical order by a reaction of intelligence upon 
mechanism, similar to that which has coordinated the physical forces 
according to a plan which binds matter to the service of mind. 



3. Liberty and Necessity. 

The words " Liberty" and " Necessity" have been em- 
ployed to designate two opposite views of the nature of 
Volition. Both words are used in a number of different 
senses. In the physical sense, every occurrence is neces- 
sary. In the intellectual sense, certain judgments follow 
necessarily from other judgments under the laws of 
thought, although we by no means necessarily observe 
these laws in our thinking. In the moral sense, there is 
also a kind of necessity, as when we regard punishment as 
morally necessary in human society. It is obvious that 
the word ^^ necessity ^^ has at least three different mean- 
ings. The controversy concerning the " Freedom of the 
Will " has been, to a great extent, a dispute about words. 



362 PSYCHOLOGY. 

We shall simply state these theories and attempt to point 
out the truth there is in each. 

(1) The Theory of Liberty. — If we meant nothing by 
the word *^ liberty/' there could be no intelligible discus- 
sion about it. The proper meaning of the word is ^^ free- 
dom from compulsion. ^^ Some of our actions are "free" 
in the sense that we choose the ends to be attained and 
the means for attaining the ends, without restraint. That 
we do so, is evident from the following considerations : 
(a) We distinguish between voluntary and involuntary 
actions ; {h) we are conscious when acting that we choose 
without restraint; (c) we feel an obligation to perform 
some actions and to avoid others; (d) we experience 
ethical emotions in view of our own actions and the 
actions of others ; (e) all administration of justice assumes 
in men the power to act freely and adapts punishment to 
the apparent degree of freedom ; (/) all languages con- 
tain words representing the ideas of " choice/' " free- 
dom/' "^^ guilt/' "innocence/' etc. We are, then, in some 
sense, conscious of liberty. Some extremists have held 
that we can and do act without motives, and that 
volitions are uncaused acts. It is this extreme position, 
or what has been mistaken for it, that those who hold the 
opposite view have usually attacked. 

(2) The Theory of Necessity. — We must admit the 
reality of some kind of necessity, or there could be no dis- 
cussion. The proper meaning of "necessity" is "abso- 
lute compulsion." Given a physical force acting without 
interference, the effect must of necessity follow. This is 
practically undisputed, although it is theoretically doubt- 
ful if we accept the idea of cause advocated by Hume and 
his followers (page 185). But the question here relates to 



VOLUNTARY ACTION. 363 

the necessity of volitions. Given a particular volition, 
can we say that it proceeds from absolute compulsion ? 
The Necessitarian gives an affirmative answer. His 
reasons are : {a) Every event follows necessarily from its 
cause ; {h) a volition is an event which can be traced back 
to its determining causes ; (6') the activities of the mind 
are all events which are caused the same as other events. 
Here a difference must be noted. Some l^ecessitarians 
admit none but physical causes and regard every mental 
event as produced by physical causes. Others admit a 
difference between physical and psychical activities, but 
regard every event as determined with equal necessity by 
its causes. 

If we adhere to the psychological method, we must abide 
by the decision of consciousness. In the act of choice, 
we are conscious of being able to choose without compul- 
sion either of the alternatives presented. We cannot say, 
therefore, that our choice is a necessary one. We cannot 
say, on the other hand, that our determination is un- 
caused. We ape conscious of being the determining cause. 
We are conscious of freedom at the time of acting, and it 
is in the light of this consciousness that we admit our 
responsibility. 

The history of this controversy is long and complicated, having 
a theological as well as a philosophical bearing. The controversy 
is, however, much more theoretical than practical ; for, whatever 
conclusions we adopt, we must practically assume moral freedom in 
all our personal conduct and judgments of others. If we were to 
assume that whatever is destined to happen, will happen, without 
regard to our actions, — the absurdity of the assumption would soon 
become manifest in the practical consequences. We should put 
forth no exertions toward any end, we should blame no one for his 
conduct whatever it might be, and we could not logically resent 



364 PSTCHOLOGT, 

any indignity or apparent injustice that might be visited upon our- 
selves, for our assumption would require us to confess that all was 
necessary ! Unless consciousness be admitted as a final and deci- 
sive arbiter, the discussion of the question would be endless, for we 
could find no positive evidence upon the subject outside of the con- 
sciousness of men. The moment we appeal to the analogies of 
physical nature, we transfer the subject to another sphere of rela- 
tions and really involve ourselves in a petitio principii; for we 
thereby assume that the laws of the physical world are, without 
modification, universal in the psychical sphere. But, having thus 
abandoned the veracity of consciousness, we should fall into the 
skepticism of Sensationalism, after the manner of Hume, and losing 
the rational intuition of universal causation, we should end our dis- 
cussion with a non sequitur. The moment we exclude all evidence 
'except that furnished by the senses, we lose the rational principle 
of cause altogether ; and, as we have seen (page 189), are unable to 
show that any event stands in the relation of cause and effect to any 
other. Those who desire to inform themselves of the history of the 
free-will controversy, will find accounts in the encyclopedias and 
statements from the theological point of view in the works on 
systematic theology. Many modern Necessitarians prefer to call 
themselves Determinists and their doctrine Determinism. Mill, 
Bain, and Spencer may be regarded as the leading modern advocates 
of necessity, although it has been taught by many theologians, of 
whom Edwards is the chief. The doctrine of Libertarianism is held, 
with variations and modifications of statement, by Reid, Hamilton, 
and the majority of those who have followed them in philosophy. 
A long line of special treatises has appeared in America in favor of 
the freedom of the Will. The most distinguished of these writers 
are Day, Tappan, Upham, Bledsoe, Whedon, and Hazard. Their 
works are generally accessible, and should be examined by those who 
are interested in this subject. 



4. Volition and Education, 

While it is clear that volition is not caused by motives 
in any mechanical manner^ it is equally evident that we 
do not act voluntarily without motives. There are^ then. 



VOLUNTARY ACTION. 365 

two important points of interest for the educator in rela- 
tion to volition : (1) the presentation of motives, and (2) 
the sphere of freedom. 

(1) The Presentation of Motives.— We can elicit action 
only by offering suitable motives. If the motive presented 
be relatively insignificant, or relatively dominant, there 
is little opportunity for voluntary action ; for an insig- 
nificant motive is not seriously taken into account, and a 
dominant motive is permitted to decide a question with- 
out deliberation. When a child, for example, is required 
to choose between studying a quarter of an hour during 
the school period and remaining an hour after school, 
there is, properly speaking, no opportunity for choice. 
It is simply a question of more or less, and intuition shows 
that a part of an hour is less than a whole. Will is devel- 
oped only by exercise, and its exercise requires the presen- 
tation of motives of different kinds. In so far as it is the 
purpose of a parent or teacher to encourage the develop- 
ment of voluntary power, which is the essential element in 
that self-government for which education is a preparation, 
the opportunities for a real choice must be furnished. 

(2) The Sphere of Freedom. — The greatest mistake in 
the moral training of children is to suppose that mere 
obedience is the end of government. Obedience to parental 
or tutorial authority may be perfect, but if it is produced 
by personal fear alone, the moment this fear is removed 
the government is abolished. It is true that habit counts 
for something, but when the fear upon which a habit has 
been based is removed, an opposite habit is likely to be 
formed as soon as personal freedom is secured. It is 
notorious that children most rigidly trained, when free 
from authority, are wholly incapable of self -direction and 



366 PSYCHOLOGY, 

rush into the opposite extremes. The reason is, that they 
are wholly unprepared for freedom. They can never be 
prepared for it except by the moderate enjoyment of it, as 
the eye can never be prepared in darkness for the light, but 
must be gradually adapted to it. It is in the sphere of free- 
dom alone that self -regulation can be cultivated. This does 
not warrant great laxity, but it requires a certain freedom 
of action in which one is allowed to choose for himself 
and is held responsible for his choice by submitting to the 
consequences. That this sphere of freedom must be 
restricted, is evident from the fatal results which would 
follow if children were left to natural consequences alone. 
It would be simply criminal to permit a child to experi- 
ment with poison. And yet a limited freedom is essential 
to the exercise and growth of voluntary power. 

In this section, on " Volition," we have considered : 

1, Tlie Nature of Volition, 

2, The Forms of Volition, 

3, Liberty and Necessity, 

4, Volition and Education, 

Reference; (1) Reid's Works, II., p. 532. 



SEIOTIOIT lY. 

THE DEVELOPMENT OF WILL. 
1. Summary of Results. 

In examining the modes of activity of which we are 
capable, we have distinguished two main classes of actions, 
the involuntary and the voluntary. We have found that 



VOLUNTARY ACTION. 367 

Will cannot be identified with knowledge, or with feeling, 
or with a mere union of them. It is a power of the soul 
to direct its own activity toward ends of its own choosing. 
Intellect, Sensibility, and Will are not three separate 
beings, but faculties possessed by one being in whose 
self-conscious unity these powers cooperate. 
We may summarize actions as follows : 





' I. Involuntary, 

in the form of 


' 1. Reflex Actions, 

2. Sensori-motor Actions, and 

3. Ideo-motor Actions; all being either 

(1) instinctive, or (2) acquired. 


c 1 
o 

< 


II. Voluntary, 

in the form of 


' 1. Attentipn, 

2. Assent, 

3. Choice, 

_ 4. Execution. 



2. The Stages of Volition. 

The four forms of volition represent successive stages of 
voluntary action. Attention is the most simple and rudi- 
mentary. Assent accompanies'' a proposition. Choice 
occurs when alternatives are presented. Execution is the 
realization of an ideal state in physical movement. These 
forms of voluntary action are possible only through the 
cooperation of knowledge and feeling, but cannot be 
reduced to them either separately or unitedly. 

To those who do not make a careful analysis of experience, voli- 
tion may seem to be identical with a union of knowledge and feel- 
ing; but a careful analysis renders the distinction clear. Purely 
involuntary actions, as, for example, the act of winking, may be 
both known and felt, without volition. "When the same act is per- 
formed voluntarily, there is an additional element in the experience 
— ^the volition to perform the act. It is this additional factor which 
renders Will irreducible to a mere union of knowledge and feeling. 



36g PSYCHOLOQY. 



3. Tlie Development of Will. 

The power of self -direction is evidently capable of de- 
velopment. Our experience exhibits a gradual extension 
of voluntary control over activities which were at first not 
under the dominion of Will. This growth of voluntary 
power must not, however, be confused with a development 
of Will out of something which is not Will. The in- 
voluntary can never by mere complication become volun- 
tary. Some psychologists have attempted to derive Will 
from mere reflex action. ^ However refined and complex 
a system of physical forces may be, its action does not 
cease to be mechanical. All who have attempted to 
evolve the voluntary from the involuntary, have ended, 
with logical consistency, in automatism. Will, like Intel- 
lect and Sensibility, is a primary and underived faculty. 
It can be developed only by exercise. Whoever does not 
exercise his self-directing power soon degenerates into the 
mere creature of circumstances and is swept along like a 
vessel without a helmsman. 

The difficulty in deriving voluntary action from involuntary, or 

of tracing the development of Will from reflex action, has been well 
stated by Wundt. He says : *' If Will did not exist already, it would 
be incapable of choosing any movement whatever among the pre- 
existing involuntary movements." ^ Involuntary action might go on 
increasing in complication, but it would never become voluntary. 
The distinction between voluntary and involuntary would, there- 
fore, never arise. But, if there are no voluntary actions, it would be 
as well to deny their existence without taking the trouble to explain 
their development. Bain candidly admits that, "without spon- 
taneity the growth of the Will is inexplicable." ^ But nothing is 
gained here, for he soon refers this *' spontaneity " to "nutrition," 
" convulsions, spasms, and unnatural excitement of the active energy 



VOLUNTARY ACTION, 369 

in the nerve centres." * To explain the genesis of Will by referring 
the first voluntary movements to nutrition and incipient epilepsy 
would be grimly humorous, if the attempt did not claim to be 
scientific. The ineptness of the endeavor is well pointed out by one 
who is quite in sympathy with Bain's purpose, but who cannot 
accept his explanation. "Nerve-force," says Ribot, "can be only 
the transformation of some prior physical force. The inequality of 
its distribution over the body must also depend on physical or 
mechanical causes. Hence, we do not see what becomes of this 
'spontaneity,' acted on as it is on all sides by mechanical laws." ^ 
The problem is here confessed by all, but it is not solved. Will ex- 
ists, and it cannot be derived from anything that is not Will. We 
are compelled to admit the presence of what Wundt calls "the 
personal factor." 

« 
4. Habitual Volition. 

Volitions many times repeated, even when they do not 
lose their voluntary quality, become progressively easier, 
and tend at last to become habitual. It is for this reason 
that the wise man warns the young against first steps 
in wrong directions. Our freedom, unless constantly 
guarded, is easily lost. Habitual volitions, like habitual 
feelings, consolidate into moral character, which is meas- 
ured and classified according to the standards of Moral 
Law. 

We see in liiis connection how the soul, naturally endowed with 
f reedQm, may by voluntary acts put itself in bondage. This servi- 
tude, voluntary at first, may become necessary at last. It is because 
of this unquestioned limitation of freedom in every established 
character that the degree of liberty in any particular case and with 
reference to any particular act becomes a matter of uncertainty and 
dispute. If we choose to magnify this undeniable subjection of the 
soul to modes of activity not at first necessary and to exclude from 
view the evidences of remaining freedom, it is possible to convince 
ourselves that we are, at any moment, to a great extent, the 



370 PSYCHOLOGY. 

creatures of our own past. But this does not release us from 
responsibility for what we have made ourselves and even more 
clearly for what we are making ourselves to-day. 



5. The Inheritance of Will. 

That Will is inherited admits of no doubt, for as a 
primitive faculty of the soul it is essential to the complete- 
ness of our psychical being. Whether or not Will as 
inherited contains any particular determination to act in 
a special manner, is another question. Some attempt has 
been made to show from the facts of history that ^'strong" 
and *^weak" Wills are capable of transmission by inherit- 
ance.* The evidence is certainly not very conclusive. 
That susceptibility to certain motives is inherited, is more 
clear. The accumulations of fact are too small to justify 
a generalization, and there would be great difficulties in 
the interpretation of any amount of such evidence, how- 
ever large it might be. 

Wundt says: "When it is asserted that the character of man is a 
product of air and light, of education and destiny, of food and 
climate, and that it is necessarily predetermined by these influences, 
like every natural phenomenon, the conclusion is absolutely un- 
demonstrable. Education and destiny presuppose a character which 
determines them ; that is here taken to be an effect which is partly a 
cause. But the facts of psychical heredity make it very highly 
probable that, could we reach the initial point of the individual life, 
we should there find an independent germ of personality which 
cannot be determined from without, inasmuch as it precedes all ex- 
ternal determination." ' Whatever may be the extent of inherited 
tendency, responsibility relates to our volitions. Inherited tend- 
encies beyond the control of the Will show how responsibility rests 
upon the past as well as upon the present generation, and links the 
present to the future with an obligation that may not be lightly dis- 



VOLUNTARY ACTION. 371 

6. The Law of Voluntary Action. 

That a being of such capacities as man possesses should 
be without a law for his yoluntary activities, is not in 
analogy with the universality of law in nature. The law 
for the Will is the Moral Law. The moral nature of man 
is the subject of which Ethics is the science. Psychology 
shows that man has an Intellect capable of apprehending 
a general rule of conduct; that his Sensibility affords 
ethical emotions, which vary in kind according as this 
rule is or is not obeyed ; and that he possesses Will, the 
faculty of self-direction which enables him to observe this 
rule. The way in which Moral Law is known, and the 
rights and duties that arise from the knowledge of it, are 
questions belonging to the science of Ethics. Psychology 
completes its special investigation in stating the fact that 
the soul is a moral agent, capable of knowing and obeying 
Moral Law, to which the harmony of its nature requires 
that the Will should be subjected. 

The order of nature culminates in man, and nature, through 
the wonderfully adjusted mechanism of man's nervous system, is 
under the dominion of Will So far as a purpose is discernible in 
the constitution of nature and of man, that purpose is realized in 
man's fulfillment of his destiny as a moral being. Freedom is the 
essential condition of moral character. Obedience to moral law is 
the condition of a perfected personality. The soul, therefore, finds 
its meaning in this conformity to the creative purpose. The true 
dignity of human nature does not consist in the mere possession of 
superior power, but in the conformity of all the faculties to the 
Divine plan. As Reid has said: "As far as the intention of nature 
appears in the constitution of man, we ought to comply with that 
intention, and to act agreeably to it."^ If the creative purpose has 
been expressed not only in nature, but by a special revelation, then 
we ought to act agreeably to that also and for the same reason. 



372 PSYCHOLOGY, 

7. The Immortality of the Soul. 

The questions of origin and destiny both lie beyond the 
limits of direct observation and^ therefore, beyond the 
sphere of exact science. The mode of the souFs beginning 
is as mysterious as the mode of its future existence. The 
Power that gave us being can give us also immortality. 
Man^s earthly life seems to be an unfinished life. En- 
dowed with reason, man is the interpreter of nature ; capa- 
ble of moral obligation and ethical emotions, he is a 
subject of moral government ; gifted with freedom, he is 
capable of a moral character that distinguishes him from 
inferior creatures. The latest to appear in the series of 
living beings on the earth, the only imaginable fulfillment 
of rational purpose in geological history, it is most natural 
that nature^s interpreter should find nature^s interpreta- 
tion in his own immortal life. 

Although the questions of origin and destiny lie beyond the scope 
of science, the interest attaching to the soul's future may warrant 
some attempt to point out the limits of our natural knowledge. The 
relation between soul and body is one of coexistence, not of identity. 
In the processes of knowing, feeling, and acting the soul is dependent 
upon the body for its communication with the world of sense- 
impressions. Still, as Bowne has said, ''When once a mental life 
has begun, and a store of ideas has been accumulated, it seems quite 
possible that a self-enclosed thought-life might continue thereafter 
in entire independence of any organism. No necessity for an organ- 
ism appears, except for communication with the outer world." ^ 
" The abstract possibility of our existing apart from the body admits 
of no dispute ; but this is far enough from proving that we shall so 
exist. Yet the fact that the soul cannot be identified with the body 
shows that the destruction of the body contains no assignable ground 
for the destruction of the soul. . . . Every real thing must be as- 
sumed to continue in existence until its annihilation has been 



VOLUNTARY ACTION. 373 

proved. If, then, this subject is to be argued upon the basis of our 
customary ideas, the burden of proof would lie altogether upon the 
believer in annihilation ; for the soul is real, and must be assumed 
to exist until its destruction has been shown. Of course such a 
showing is impossible ; and hence the presumption must remain in 
favor of continued existence." ^" If any difficulty arises from the 
apparent necessity of ascribing immortality to the souls of brutes, it 
should be considered that the probability of immortality is not 
argued from the soul's existence, but from its adaptation to im- 
mortal life. The brute knows nothing of the meaning of nature, of 
moral law, or of a creative plan. Reason demands that whatever is 
necessary to the completion of a plan may be rationally expected. 
Moral excellence seems to present a claim to continued being, and 
everything else seems not an end but a means. If brutes possess no 
moral value, there is no reason why they should share with rational 
creatures in immortal life, 

tn this section, on " The Development of Will,*' we 
have considered:— 

1, SuTnmary of Results, 

2, The Stages of Volition, 

S, The Development of Will, 
4:, Sdbitual Volition, 

5, The Inheritance of Will, 

6, The Law of Voluntary Action, 

7, The Immortality of the Soul. 

References: (1) See Spencer's Principles of Psychology, I., Part 
IV., Chapter IX. (2) "Wundt's Physiological Psychology (not trans- 
lated into English), Chapter XX. (3) Bain's The Senses cmd the 
Intellect, p. 70. (4) Id., p. 73. (5) Ribot's Heredity, p. 341. (6) 
Id., Part I., Chapter VII. (7) Wundt's Lectures on the Human and 
Animal Soul (not translated), II., p. 416. (8) Reid's Works, II., 
p. 638. (9) Bowne's Introduction to Psychological Theory, p. 315. 
(10) Id., p. 316. 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 377 

Pig. 1. 







Fig. 1.— Diagram illastrating the general arrangement of the nervous system. 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 



379 



Pig. 



Fio. 2.— A vertical median section through 
the cavity of the skull and the spinal canal, to 
show the way in which the brain and its pro- 
longation, the spinal cord, are lodged within 
the bony axis of the body, a is the ce re b r u m , 
or brain proper ; b the cerebellum, or little 
brain ; m the medulla oblongata ; c the spinal 
canal ; c' the lower end of the spinal cord ; 
e the roots of the lumbar or sacral nerves, 
forming the cauda equina, or so-called horse's- 
tai] ; * the sacral plexus of nerves, and n the 
great sciatic nerve. This cut also shows sec- 
tions of the bodies and rings of all the verte> 
bras ; and of the nose, mouth, throat, gullet, 
tongue, larynx, and windpipe. The brain and 
spinal cord are protected from the bones by 
the dura mater, by two layers of the arachnoid, 
and by the inner membrane, or pia mater. 
(Bourgery.) 

Fig. 3. 




Fig. 3. — ^A, a transverse section through the 
cord, to show the form of the grey comua, or 
horns, in the midst of the white substance. 
B, shows the same parts ; and also the mem- 
branes of the cord, and the anterior and pos- 
terior roots of a pair of spinal nerves springing 
from its sides. 




ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 



381 



Fig. 4. 



FlO. 4.— General View of the 
Cerebrum. 1. The integuments 
of the head turned down. 2, 2. 
The edge of the remaining part 
of the cranium, the upper having 
been removed. 3. The dura ma- 
ter. 4. The convolutions and an- 
fractuosities of the brain. 





Fio. 5. — A horizontal 
section of the Cranium 
and Cerebrum. 1, 1. The 

cranium. 2, 2. The dura 
mater. 3, 3. The cellular 
Bubstance of the cere- 
brum. 4, 4. The tubular 
substance. 5, 5. The lat- 
eral ventricles of the brain. 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 



383 



Fio. 6.-~Horlzon- 
fal seciion through 
the cerebrum, tO 
show the mode in 
which the two hem- 
ispheres, a, a, are 
joined together by 
the transverse band 
of while substance, 
named the corpus 
callosum. In front 
and behind this, the 
longitudinal fissure 
separates the two 
hemispheres, ft, b is 
the section of the 
cortical substance ; 
a, a, of the medul- 
lary. The section 
also shows the 
depth of the sulci, 
between the convo- 
lutions. 



Fig. 7.— Ver- 
tical section of 
the brain, show- 
ing its three 
lobes ; a, the an- 
terior; J, the 
middle ; and c, 
the posterior. 
At/is the broad 
band of white 
fibrous matter, 
or corpus cal- 
losum, which 
unites the two 
halves or hemi- 
spheres, of 
coarse divided 
in the section; 
Skid is the cere- 
bellum, showing 
a peculiar ar- 
rangement, call- 
ed the arbor vi- 
toe, or tree of 
life ; at g- is the 
beginning of the 
optic nerve 
which goes to 
the eye ; I is the 
olfactory nerve ; 
e is the com- 
mencement of 
the spinal mar- 
row ; m is the 
medulla oblon- 
gata. 



Fig. r. 




ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 



385 




Pig. 8, A.— Nerve-cell from anterior horn of spinal cord {man\ magnifled 150 
diameters, a, cell-process unbranched passing into or joining an axis cylinder, 
the other processes are branched ; 6, pigment. The nucleus and nucleolus are 
visible. 



Fig. 8, B. 




Pig. 8, B. — Nerve-fibres, a, <z, the axis-cylinder, still partially surrounded by 
the medullary sheath. 

Nerve-ceUs vary from ^\^ to jsVs of an inch ; nerve-fibres from x^srs to rikos of 
an inch, in diameter. 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 



387 



Via, 



Pig. 9.— Vertical section of a portion of the 
skin of the finger, made across three of the curved 
ridges, magnified about 14 diameters ; 6, Section 
of the dry part of the epidermis, d, Section of the 
soft, mucous, or Malpighian rete mucosum, the 
chief seat of the coloring matter in the dark races. 
e. Section of the cutis or derma, gradually be- 
coming more areolar, until it joins the subcutane- 
ous areolar adipose tissue, c, Elevations of the 
upper compact portion of tho cutis, named the 
papilla, placed in rows across the ridges just 
mentioned, g^ Coiled tubuli of the sudoriferous, 
or sweat glands, lying near or in the areolar sub- 
cutaneous tissue. A, Long duct of one of these 
glands, forming a waved line through the cutis, e, 
but passing spirally, like a corkscrew, through the 
cuticle, ft, and then opening on the surface of a 
ridge. /, Small masses of the subcutaneous fat. 
(KOlliker.) 




Fig. 10 





Pig. 10.—^, a larger view of the cutaneous papillae, showing the secondary 
papillae into which they are often divided. Magnified about 60 diameters. jB, still 
larger diagrammatic view of two simple cutaneous papillae, with their epidermic 
covering. 1, dry scaly part of epidermis. 2, soft part, or rete mucosum, con- 
sisting of compressed cells. 3, cutis, or true skin. 4, papilla. 5, vascular capil- 
lary loop in one papilla. 6, tactile corpuscle, with two nerve-fibres winding up, 
and becoming lost upon it. (EOlUker.) 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 



389 



Fig. 11. 




Fig. 11.— Vertical section through the right nasal fossa, showing the outer side 
of that fossa, with a part of the base of the cranium, the palate, and the nose, 
1, the olfactory tract ending anteriorly in the olfactory lobe, or bulb, resting on 
the cribriform plate of the ethmoid bone. 2, superior turbinated portion of the 
ethmoid bone, corresponding with the upper part of the olfactory region, and 
covered with the network of the branches of the olfactory nerves. 3, middle tur- 
binated portion of the ethmoid bone, covered with a few olfactory nerves, and 
also forming part of the olfactory region. 4, lower turbinated bone, receiving 
only branches of the fifth nerve, 5, which also supplies the palate. The anterior 
region of the nasal fossa receives branches also derived from the fifth nerve. 
(Arnold.) 



Pig. 1« 




Fig. 12.— Taste-buds. Magnified 450 timea. 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 
Pig. 13. 



391 




^ li B f b 

Fig. 13.— The Ear.— The internal portions are made rather larger than natural, 
in order that the construction of the ear may be clearer. At a ft c is the external 
ear ; at (Z is the entrance to the tube of the ear,/ ; g is the drum of the ear at the 
end of this tube, called the membrane of the tympanum ; A is the cavity of the 
tympanum, the chain of bones which it contains being left out, so that the plan 
of the apparatus maybe more clear to you ; Tc is the Eustachian tube, which makes 
a communication between Vae back of the throat and the cavity of the tympanum ; 
n is a part of the winding passages, shaped like a snail's shell, and therefore called 
the cochlea ; at m are three other winding passages, called, from their form, semi- 
circular canals; and at ^ is the vestibule, or conuuon hall of entrance to all these 
winding passages ; o is the auditory nerve. 

Fig. 14. 
A B 




1 U 2 4r * 

Fig. 14.— The rods of Corti. — A, a pair of rods separated, from the rest ; B, a 
bit of the basilar membrane with several rods on it, showing how they cover in the 
tunnel of Corti ; i, inner, and €, outer rods ; ft, basilar membrane. Magnified 300 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 



393 



Fig. 15. 




'I / 



Fig. 15.— Eyeball in horizontal section.— g', iris ; /, pupil ; h, lens ; i, vitreous 
humor; r, retina ; ow, optic nerve ; v, fovea centralis, or point of greatest visual 
sensibility, o, h and c are three points where images are formed. When •» is 
moved to obtain clearer vision va^ vb and vc afiord ''local signs," as explained 
on page 50. 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 



395 



Fig. 16. 
Outer surface. 




Inner surface. 



Pig. 16.— a section through the retina from its anterior or inner surface, 1, in 
contact with the hyaloid membrane, to its outer, 10, in contact with the choroid. 
1, internal limiting membrane ; 2, nerve fibre layer ; 3, nerve-cell layer ; 4, inner 
molecular layer ; 5, inner granular layer ; 6, outer molecular layer ; 7, outer gran- 
ular layer ; 8, external limiting membrane ; 9, rod and cone layer ; 10, pigment- 
cell layer. (Schultze.) The rods are about 3^5 inch in length, the cones are 
shorter The diameter of the rods is about i^^g inch. 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 
Fig. 17. 



397 




Fig. 17.— Left eyeball, seen from above, with a portion of the bone at the hot. 
torn of the orbit, the left optic nerve, and the optic commissure, showing some of 
the ocular muscles. 1, superior rectus muscle. 2, external rectus muscle. 3, in- 
ternal rectus muscle. 4, 4, superior oblique muscle, passing through the trochlea 
or pulley, by which the direction of its tendon is changed, before it is inserted 
into the eyeball, t, common tendinous origin of the ocular muscles, surrounding 
the optic foramen, at the bottom of the orbit, g, the lachrymal gland, r, the 
transparent coat of the eyeball, or cornea. The rest of the eyeball is covered by 
the sclerotic. O c, the optic commissure, n, the left optic nerve passing obliquely 
forwards, in the axis of the orbit, to reach the eyeball. The antero-posterior axis 
of the eyeball, when at rest, is not oblique, but is directed forward, the axes of 
the two eyeballs being then parallel. 

Fig. 18. 




Fig. 18.— By an act of Will, either Aor B may be brought into the foreground. 
A being forward, we see the tops^ B being forward, the bottoms, of a flight of steps. 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 



399 



Fig. 19. 




Fig. 19.— The Muscles of Emo- 
tive Expression.— 1, 2, 3 lift the 
skin of the forehead ; 4 closes and 
opens the eye ; 5, pyramidal mus- 
cle of the nose ; 7, orbicularis oris, 
used in closing the mouth and in 
pouting ; 8, 9, levatores labii ; 10, 
11, zygomatics; 12, quadratusmenti; 
13, depressor anguli oris ; 15, used 
in chewing; 17, 19, 21, muscles 
moving the ear ; 22, corrugator su- 
percilii. 



Fig. 20. 
Fig. 20. — Muscles of the 
Mouth.— At a is the muscle 
which draws up the wing of the 
nose and the lip ; h raises the 
lip ; c raises the comer of the 
mouth ; d and e raise the comer 
of the mouth, and at the same 
time carry it outward ; n draws 
it outward ; m draws it down- 
ward and outward, in which ac- 
tion it is assisted by a broad thin 
muscle, 0, which, situated just 
under the skin, comes up from 
the neck ; I draws the lower lip 
downward ; and i is the circular 
muscle which closes the lips, and 
thrusts them out in pouting. At 
A is a short muscle which is fast- 
ened to the sockets of the teeth, 
and has its fibres ending in the 
skin of the chin. It therefore 

draws the chin up when it contracts. It has so much agency in the expression of 
scorn and contempt that it has been called the superbus. It is by the action of 
this muscle, together with the circular muscle i, that the expression termed pout- 
ing is produced. 




ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES, 
Fig. 21. 



401 






A. Calmness. 



B. Gravity. 



C. Levity. 



Fig. 21.— a French writer on art, Humljert de Snperville, has shown in a very 
simple manner the effect of horizontal, downward, and upward lines in changing 
expression. A represents calmness, endurance and Lmpeilurbahility ; J5, gravity, 
sadness and pain ; C, levity, gayety and inconstancy. The expressions of the face 
have also suggested comparisons with styles of architecture. Horizontal, regular, 
and parallel lines, as in J., express the calm and massive endurance of Egyptian 
temples ; oblique descending lines, as in B, express sadness, as in the form of the 
pyramids, which were used for tombs ; oblique ascending lines, as in C, express 
lightness and gayety, as in the Chinese architecture, which seems to European eyes 
almost comical and provokes the smile which it represents. The similitude may 
be extended even to trees, those with drooping branches being preferred for ceme- 
teries ; as the weeping-willow and drooping pines. Trees with horizontal branches 
appear calm and majestic. Those with oblique ascending branches seem gay and 
frisky, the comedians of vegetable nature. These are, no doubt, very superficial 
associations, but even the superficial may be suggestive in matters of mere appear- 
ance. 

Fig. 22. 




Pig. 22.— The Motor Mechanism.— 1, The humerus. 2. The muscle by which 
the joint is straightened. 3. Its insertion. 4. The muscle by which the elbow m 
bent. 5. Its origin. 6. Its insertion. When the muscle 4 contracts by an amount 
represented by 7, 8, the amount of motion of the ball will be represented by 9, 11. 
There is a loss of power which is compensated by an increase of motion. 



ILLUSTRATIVE FIGURES. 



403 



Fio. 23.— Language Associations. 
—In thiB diagram 

7 = a Sensor Impression ; 

A = the Auditory Centre ; 

T = the Tactile Centre ; 

V = the Visual Centre ; 

S = the Speaking Centre ; 

W= the Writing Centre ; 

E = the Expression through the 
Motor Centres ^and W* 






n:de::x:. 




7^e .numbers all refer to pages. 



Abbot, Francis E., quoted, 145. 

Abelard, referred to, 144. 

Abercrombie, quoted, 333. 

Abstract ideas, defined, 139 ; 
method of developing, 150. 

Abstraction, 136. 

Absolute, the, defined, 181 ; be- 
ing, 198. 

Acquisitiveness, 285. 

Action, ideo-motor, 313 ; refiex, 
313; sensori-motor, 313; vol- 
untary and involuntary dis- 
tinguished, 311 ; voluntary, 
treated, 339. 

Adaptation, 192. 

Adoration, emotion of, 270. 

Esthetic emotions, 260. 

iEsthetics, an extension of Psy- 
chology, 269. 

Affirmations, primary, 6. 

Affections, classification of, 294; 
defined, 293; polarity of , 300; 
principal types of, 296; rela- 
tion of to education, 301. 

After-sensation, 53. 

Agassiz, referred to, 111. 

Agnosticism, defined, 16, 63; re- 
ferred to, 178. 



Agraphia, 108, 335. 

Alarm, emotion of, 259. 

Allen, Charles Grant, date, 225 ; 

quoted, 234. 
Altruism, defined, 282. 
Amazement, emotion of, 259. 
Ambition, 286. 
Amnesia, defined, 107; causes 

of, 108. 
Anaesthetics, effects of upon 

memory, 108. 
Analytical judgments, defined, 

154. 
Anatomy, defined, 2. 
Anger, 296. 

Anthropomorphism, 190, 196. 
Anthropology, defined, 3. 
Antipathy, 260. 
Anxiety, 259. 
Aphasia, 108, 335. 
Apperception, 61. 
Appetite, acquired, 244 ; control 

of, 246, 248; definition of, 240; 

inherited, 245; relation of to 

education, 247. 
Approbativeness, 288. 
A priori knowledge, defined, 174. 
Architecture, reference to, 125. 



406 



INDEX, 



Aristotle, referred to, 8, 69, 70, 
141, 142, 157, 165, 170, 184, 
189, 261. 

Arnold, Matthew, referred to, 
123. 

Art, aim of, 123 ; sphere of, 263 ; 
teleological, 265. 

Assertive judgments, 155. 

Association, of ideas, 69, 216; 
laws of, 70, 72; of sensations, 
237; through feeling, 75. 

Associationism, as a philosophy, 
174; inadequacy of, 77; view 
of concerning universals, 143. 

Associations, inseparable, 71. 

Attention, defined, 20; in per- 
ception, 61; as a form of vol- 
untary action, 349. 

Attribute, or quality attributed 
to a substance of which it really 
forms a part, 175. 

Augustine, St., reference to, 70. 

Automatism, in new-born ani- 
mals, 44; law of increasing 
through habit, 327. 

Avarice, 285. 

Aversion, defined, 281. 

Awe, emotion of, 259, 266. 

Axioms, in mathematics, 166. 



Baconian method, referred to, 

122. 
Bailey, quoted, 270. 
Bain, Alexander, referred to or 

quoted, 9, 11, 63, 71, 73, 143, 

150, 225, 232, 241, 242, 243, 

261, 278, 350, 368. 
Bascom, John, referred to or 

quoted, 19, 93, 95. 
Bastian, H. C, quoted, 217. 



Beauty, emotion of, 263; ideal, 
264; sensuous, 236. 

Being, concept of, 174; infinite, 
182 ; intuition of, 174 ; two 
kinds of, 175; reality of, 174; 
relation of in perception, 58. 

Belief, defined, 12; nature of, 
155. 

Bell, Sir Charles, referred to or 
quoted, 224, 243, 253, 257. 

Benevolence, 295. 

Bentham, Jeremy, referred to, 
239. 

Berkeley, George, Bishop of 
Cloyne, referred to, 16, 50, 
176. 

Bernheim, Dr. H., French phy- 
sician, referred to, 332. 

Bernstein, J., German physiolo- 
gist, quoted, 61. 

Binocular vision, 38. 

Biology, defined, 2. 

Biran, Maine de, referred to, 186. 

Bledsoe, Albert T., referred to, 
364. 

Blushing, 258. 

Boethius, referred to, 143. 

Bowne, Borden P., referred to or 
quoted, 17, 179, 189, 282, 287,372. 

Braid, James, referred to, 332. 

Brain, as servant of the soul, 95 ; 
described, 26; development of, 
216; relation of to mind, 89. 

Bridgman, Laura, American 
deaf-mute, referred to, 23, 335. 

Brinton, D. G., American eth- 
nologist, quoted, 270. 

Broca, Paul, referred to, 217. 

Bro-wrn, Thomas, referred to, 71, 
144, 145. 

Byron, Lord, referred to, 56, 92. 



INDEX. 



407 



Oabanis, J. G., referred to, 335. 

Calderwood, Henry, referred to 
or quoted, 5, 183, 202, 203. 

Carpenter, W, B., referred to or 
quoted, 94, 109, 329, 332, 349. 

Categories, the, enumerated, 156. 

Categorical judgments, 155. 

Cause, defined, 184; different 
senses of the word, 184; dis- 
tinguished from occasion, 188; 
final, 189; relation of in per- 
ception, 58; resolution of into 
antecedent and consequent, 185 ; 
resolution of into subjective ex- 
perience, 186 ; resolution of 
into a relation of concepts, 186 ; 
resolution of into an impotency 
of mind, 187; resolution of the 
idea of into an intuition, 188; 
transcendent, 197; ultimate, 198. 

Coenaesthesia, 306. 

Cerebrum, see Brain. 

Cerebration, 328; unconscious, 
94, 329, 331. 

Centres in the brain, 27, 334. 

Chance, defined, 191. 

Character, emotional, 306; as 
result of habit, 325 ; law of des- 
tination of, 328 ; moral, 372. 

Cheerfulness, emotion of, 255. 

Cheselden, referred to, 38, 46. 

Clairvoyance, 30. 

Clarke, Edward Hammond, 
quoted, 53, 84. 

Coleridge, S. T., referred to, 108, 
261. 

Color, in perception, 38. 

Color-blindness, 39. 

Comical, emotions of the, 261. 

Common-sense, in philosophy, 
173. 



Comparative psychology, 3. 
Comparison, in conception, 136. 
Compayre, French writer on 

education, quoted, 278. 
Composite photographs, 139. 
Comprehension, in logic, defined, 

143. 
Comprehensive judgments, 156. 
Compulsion, distinguished from 

Yolition, 356. 
Comte, Auguste, quoted, 6. 
Conception, defined, 134, 135 ; 

process of, 135; use of word, 

135. 
Concepts, defined, 135; nature 

of, 138 ; perfect and imperfect, 

146; reality of, 141. 
Conceptualism, explained, 144. 
Condillac, Etienne Bonnot de, 

referred to, 219. 
Conditional judgment, 156. 
Congreve, William, quoted, 301, 
Connotation, 143. 
Consciousness, described, 14, 15. 
Constitutive knowledge, de- 
fined, 13, 172. 
Contempt, 299. 
Contentment, 255. 
Contiguity, law of, 73. 
Contrast, law of, 73. 
Convergence, defined, 195. 
Copula, defined, 154. 
Correlation, defined, 194. 
Correlation and Conservation 

of forces, law of, 340. 
Corti, organs or rpds of, so called 

after their Italian discoverer, 

37. See also figure 14. 
" Cram " in study, referred to, 

99. 
Curiosity, 284. 



408 



INDEX, 



Custom, defined, 326. 
Ouvier, French naturalist, re- 
ferred to, or quoted, 194, 217. 



Dalton, John, referred to, 39. 

Daltonism, or color-blindness, 39. 

Daring, 259. 

Darwin, Charles, referred to or 
quoted, 122, 224, 258, 318. 

David, French sculptor, referred 
to, 91. 

Deduction, defined, 165; forms 
of, 167. 

Dejection, emotion of, 256. 

Delboeuf, contemporary French 
psycho-physicist, referred to, 
61. 

Delirium, 31, 53. 

Deliberation, treated, 347. 

Delitzsch, F., German theolo- 
gian, referred to, 65. 

Delusion, defined, 92. 

Democritus, referred to, 35, 77. 

Demonstration, nature of, 155. 

Demonstrative judgments, 155. 

Denotation, defined, 143. 

Denomination, in conception, 
136. 

Dependence, emotion of, 269. 

Depression, emotion of, 256. 

De Quincey, Thomas, referred 
to, 84, 206, 210. 

Descartes, Rene, referred to or 
quoted, 15, 64, 92, 219. 

Design, defined, 192. 

Desire, defined, 280 ; distin- 
guished from volition, 356 ; 
kinds of, 281; relation of to 
education, 289. 

Determinism, 364. 



Development, of intellect, 213; 
of sensibility, 305 ; of sense- 
perception, 44 ; of will, 366. 

Dewey, John, quoted or referred 
to, 75, 102, 106, 221, 306, 309. 

Diman, J. Lewis, quoted, 198. 

Dipsomania, or mania for drink- 
ing, 246. 

Discipline, as a part of educa- 
tion, 3. 

Discursive knowledge, 134. 

Dispositions, 306. 

Disrespect, emotion of, 268. 

Distrust, emotion of, 268. 

Doubt, defined, 12. 

Drama, the, 267. 

Dreams, 95. 

DuaUsm, 42, 63, 64, 178. 

Dualistic Realism, 42, 63, 64, 178. 

Duration, defined, 208; memory 
of, 105. 



Edison, Thomas A., referred to, 
121. 

Education, aim of, 3; processes 
of, 3. For relation of the va- 
rious faculties and powers to, 
see each of these. 

Edwards, Jonathan, the Elder, 
distinguished as "President 
Edwards " from his son of the 
same name, who also wrote on 
the . Will, known as Dr. Ed- 
wards, referred to, 342. 

Ego, the Latin word for I, used 
to designate the soul, or con- 
scious self, — the, described, 9; 
development of the, 72 ; Hume's 
view of, 16; J. S. Mill's view 
of, 17. 



INDEX. 



409 



Egoism, defined, 282. 

Egoistic self-consciousness, 22. 

Elaborative knowledge, de- 
finc'l, 13, 134. 

Emec son, R. W., referred to, 173. 

Emotion, contagion of, 260; defi- 
nition of, 250 ; expression of, 251, 
256 ; kinds of, 255 ; modification 
of, 260 ; production of, 253 ; 
relation of to education, 274. 

Empirical theory of space- 
perception, 49. 

Empiricism, defined, 173. 

Empiricus, Sextus, referred to, 
162. 

Emulation, 289. 

Ennui, feeling of, 244. 

Enthymematic reasoning, 167. 

Envy, 297. 

EquaUty, defined, 180. 

Error, 82. 

Eternity, defined, 208. 

Ethical emotions, 268. 

Ethics, relation of Psychology to, 
268; sphere of, 126. 

Ethnological Psychology, 3. 

Euler, German mathematician, 
referred to. 111. 

Evolution, a formal, not a caus- 
al, theory, 196. 

Expectation, 55, 126. 

Experiment, defined, 163. 

Explanation, rational, nature of, 
196. 

iExpression, habitual, 307. 

Extension, in logic, of a concept, 
143; defined, 201. 

Extensive judgments, 156. 

Faculties, defined, 8 ; division 
of, 8. 



Faith, 299. 
Fame, desire of, 288. 
Fancy, defined, 100 ; distin- 
guished from imagination, 116. 
Faraday, referred to, 122. 
Fear, emotion of, 259. 
Fechner, G. F., law of, 60. 
Feeling, appeal to, 344 ; de- 
scribed, 7, 12; habitual, 306; 

relation of motives to, 344; 

stages of, 305; treated, 221. 

See also Emotion, Sensation 

and Sensibility. 
Ferrier, David, referred to, 27, 

335. 
Fichte, J. G., referred to, 122, 

145. 
Fiction, moral qualities of, 126. 
Final cause, conditions implied 

in, 195; explained, 189. 
First cause, 198. 
Forces, law of the correlation 

and conservation of, 340. 
Fowler, Thomas, contemporary 

English logician, quoted, 163. 
Franklin, B., referred to, 122. 
Frobel, F. W. A., referred to, 65. 
Freedom of the Will, 361. 
Frothingham, 0. B., American 

writer, referred to, 173. 
Fullerton, George S., referred to, 

183. 
Fulton, Robert, referred to, 121. 



Gall, P. J., referred to, 103. 
Galton, Francis, referred to or 

quoted, 85, 86, 139. 
Gassendi, Peter, referred to, 79. 
General notion, defined, 130. 
General term, defined, 137. 



410 



INDEX. 



Generalization, in conception, 
136. 

Generic images, 139. 

Genetic theory of space-percep- 
tion, 49. 

Genius, 129. 

Ghost-seeing, 52. 

Gibbon, the historian, rexerred 
to, 261. 

Goethe, the German poet, re- 
ferred to, 91, 92, 111, 122. 

Goltz, contemporary German ex- 
perimenter in vivisection, quot- 
ed, 28. 

Graceful, the, 263. 

Grandeur, emotion of, 266. 

Gratitude, 298. 

Grief, emotion of, 256. 

Grotius, the Dutch jurist, re- 
ferred to. 111. 

Guilt, emotion of, 268. 

Gumey, Edmund, contemporary 
writer, 332. 



Habit, a "second nature," 326; 
defined, 80, 325 ; in association 
of ideas, 77 ; in education, 337 ; 
in expression, 307; in feeling, 
306; laws of, 327; origin of, 
326. 

Haeckel, Ernst, quoted, 191. 

Hall, G. Stanley, referred to, 24, 
106, 332. 

Hallucination, defined, 91. 

Hamilton, Sir William, referred 
to or quoted, 8, 19, 26, 42, 70, 
90, 92, 97, 108, 111, 144, 182, 
183, 187, 188, 313. 

Harmony, law of, 236. 

Hartley, David, referred to, 71. 



Hartmann, Eduard von, referred 
to, 195. 

Hate, 296. 

Haughtiness, 257. 

Hausmann, German mineralo- 
gist, referred to, 217. 

Hazard, Rowland G., referred to, 
364. 

Hearing, described, 37; knowl- 
edge obtained by, 40. 

Hegel, G. W. F., referred to, 122, 
145, 148. 

Helmholtz, H. L. P., referred to, 
31, 38, 59, 122. 

Herbart, J. F., referred to, 8, 60, 
273. 

Heredity, of intellect, 218; of 
sensibility, 307; of will, 370. 

Hering, contemporary German 
psycho-physicist, referred to, 
61. 

Heroism, emotion of, 259. 

Hirsch, contemporary Swiss psy- 
cho-physicist, referred to, 59, 
60. 

Hobbes, Thomas, referred to, 70, 
142, 143, 261. 

Hodge, Charles, referred to, 67. 

Holland, Sir Henry, celebrated 
English physician, died in 1873, 
referred to, 108. 

Hope, emotions of, 259. 

Hopkins, Mark, quoted, 241 ; re- 
ferred to, 280. 

Horror, emotion of, 259. 

Humboldt, A. von, German nat- 
uralist, referred to. 111. 
Huine, David, referred to or 
quoted, 15, 16, 71, 77, 143, 145, 
162, 173, 176, 185, 186. 
Humility, 259. 



INDEX. 



411 



Humor, 261. 

Hunger, 241. 

Hunt, Leigh, referred to, 116. 

Huxley, Thomas Henry, quoted, 

40. 
Hypnotism, 331, 332. 
Hypnotization, 330. 
Hypostasis, of abstract ideas, 147. 
Hypothesis, defined, 164. 



Idealism, Berkeley's, 16 ; defined, 

63; referred to, 178. 
Ideal, the, 116, 126, 263. 
Ideal beauty, distinguished from 

sensuous, 236. 
Ideal presence, or presence of an 

object ideally before the mind, 

128, 253. 
Ideas, abstract, 139; association 

of, 69; meaning of the word, 

68, 142; train of, 69. 
Identity, definition of, 180. 
Ideo-motor action, 313. 
Idiopathy, of the nerves, 31. 
Imagination, activity of, 129; 

character of, 118; creative en- 
ergies of, 115; dangers of, 128; 

defined, 114; difference of and 

fancy, 116; limitations of, 119; 

relation of to education, 130; 

use of word, 115; uses of, 127; 

varieties of, 120. 
Imitativeness, 287. 
Immensity, defined, 201. 
Immortality of the soul, 372. 
Indifference, in feeling, 225. 
Indignation, 297. 
Induction, assumptions of, 164; 

defined, 162. 
Industried education, 67, 160. 



Infant, psychical condition of the, 

44, 214, 278. 
Infinity, defined, 182. 
Ingratitude, 298. 
Inheritance. See Heredity. 
Inhibition, 314. 
Innervation, 314. 
Innocence, emotion of, 268. 
Insanity, 53, 92. 
Instinct, defined, 318 ; nature and 

origin of, 318 ; in man, 321 ; 

relation of to education, 323. 
Instinctive action, 318. 
Instruction, defined, 3. 
Interest, defined, 273. 
Intellect, defined, 11; described, 

8; the pre-condition of nitional 

experience, 220. 
Intellectual philosophy, named, 

1. 
Intensity, law of in sensations, 

74. 
Intoxicants, effects of, 108, 245. 
Intra-cranial speech, 334. 
Introspection, or looking within, 

as the method of Psychology, 4. 
Intuition, defined, 153, 174; of 

being, 174; of cause, 188. 
Intuitional theory of space-per- 
ception, 49. 
Ireland, W. W., contemporary 

English specialist in abnormal 

psychology, quoted, 329. 
Irving, Washington, quoted, 115. 



James, William, quoted, 254; re- 
ferred to, 46. 

Janet, Paul, quoted, 192, 193, 
194. 

Jealousy, 297. 



412 



INDEX. 



Jevons, W. S., English logician 
and economist, died in 1882, 
referred to, 122. 

Johnson, Dr. Samuel, referred 
to, 92. 

Jonson, Ben, quoted, 100. 

Jouflfroy, T. S., referred to, 190. 

Joy, emotion of, 255. 

Judgment, defined, 134, 152 ; cat- 
egories of, 156; kinds of, 154; 
origin of the universal, 165; 
relation of to education, 158; 
relation of to other processes, 
153. 



Kant, Immanuel, referred to or 
quoted, 8, 144, 145, 146, 159, 
173, 176, 186, 187, 190, 194, 
204, 205, 209. 

Kindergarten system; 65. 

Knowing, stages of, 214. 

Knowledge, described, 7, 12. 
See also Intellect and the 
special forms of Knowledge, 
Presentative, Representative, 
Elaborative, and Constitutive. 



Ladd, George T., referred to or 
quoted, 35,60, 62, 79, 100, 307, 352. 

Language, acquisition of, 336; 
as an instrument of analysis, 
82 ; as an instrument of reason- 
ing, 170; associations of, 334; 

- involuntary use of, 334; origin 
of in abstraction, 137; power 
of on the feelings, 258; study 
of, 149; the language of ani- 
mals, 138. 

Lauk, Eva, curious case of, 46. 



Lavater, Swiss physiognomist, 
307. 

Laws, of association of ideas, 69 ; 
of feeling, 236 ; of thought, 
134, 175. 

Leibnitz, G. W., referred to, 64, 
111, 219. 

Lessing, G. E., quoted, 223. 

Lewes, George Henry, quoted or 
referred to, 27, 31, 87, 88, 223, 
318. 

Liberty, of the wilJ, 362. 

Linguistic study, 149. 

Localization, of functions in the 
brain, 27; of sensations in the 
body, 49. 

Local signs, theory of, 50. 

Locke, John, quoted or referred 
to, 16, 19, 50, 71, 77, 144, 173, 
175, 176, 219. 

Logic, an extension of Psychol- 
ogy, 269; language as the in- 
strument of, 170; the sphere 
of, 147. 

Lotze, Hermann, quoted or re- 
ferred to, 31, 50, 51, 68, 118, 
307. 

Love, 296. 

Lowliness, emotion of, 258. 

Ludicrous, emotion of the, 261 

Luys, J., contemporary French 
physiologist, quoted, 316. 



Malebranche, Nicolas, referred 

to, 64, 92. 
Malevolence, 295. 
Mansel, H. L., referred to, 181. 
Marking-system, the, in relation 

to emulation, 292. 
Materialism, defined, 63, 178. 



I 



INDEX. 



413 



Matter, attributes of, 177; pri- 
mary and secondary qualities 
of, 42. 

Maudsley, Henry, quoted or re- 
ferred to, 5, 90, 308. . 

McCosh, James, quoted or re- 
ferred to, 64, 97, 225, 295. 

Meekness, emotion of, 258. 

Memory, definition of, 102; im- 
portance of to greatness, 111; 
loss of, 107; of time, 104; re- 
lation of to education. 111 ; re- 
lation of to the organism, 109 ; 
to other powers, 110 ; volun- 
tary and involuntary, 106. 

Mental, as applied to science, 1 ; 
use of the word, 1. 

Metaphysics, defined, 2; based 
on psychological facts, 173; the 
vice of, 148. 

Method, of psychology, 4; scien- 
tific, 146. 

Mill, James, referred to, 16, 71. 

Mill, John Stuart, son of James 
Mill, quoted or referred to, 18, 
50, 64, 71, 143, 146, 165, 173, 
176, 185, 364. 

Milton, John, quoted, 117, 237. 

Mind, use of the word, 1. 

Mind-reading, 30. 

Mivart, St. George, contemporary 
English naturalist, quoted, 262. 

Mnemonics, 113. 

Modality, defined, 179. 

Modesty, emotion of, 258. 

Monboddo, Lord, an eighteenth 
century writer, quoted, 100. 

Monism, 63, 178. 

Morell, J. D., contemporary Eng- 
lish historian of philosophy, 
quoted, 270. 



Motives, classification of, 344; 
definition of, 340; distinguished 
from motors, 340 ; from voli- 
tions, 357 ; error concerning, 
310 ; relation of to feeling, 344. 

Motor activity, control of, 314; 
kinds of, 313. 

Motor mechanism, the, 312 ; 
limitations of, 316; relation of 
to education, 317. 

Motor Nerves, 313. 

Motors, distinguished from mo- 
tives, 340. 

Mozart, the musician, referred 
to, 104. 

Miiller, F. Max, quoted or re- 
ferred to, 138, 170, 278, 335. 

Miiller, J., German physiologist, 
referred to, 31, 49, 52. 

Munchausen, referred to, 120. 

Music, referred to, 37, 123, 124. 

Mysticism, 63. 

Name, a, nature of, 137. 

Nativistic theory of space-per- 
ception, 49. 

Nature, uniformity of, 164. 

Necessity, theory of, 362. 

Necrophore, instinct of the, 320, 
322. 

Nervous organism, the, de- 
scribed, 26. 

Nerves, afferent or sensor, 27; 
efferent or motor, 27; idiop- 
athy of, 31. 

Nicolai, case of, referred to, 90. 

Niebuhr, the German historian, 
referred to. 111. 

Nominalism, defined, 142. 

Noumenon, 145, 176. 

Number, nature of, 179. 



414 



INDEX. 



ObUgation, 268. 

Observation, as subsidiary to 

induction, 163. 
Occam, William of, referred to, 

144. 
Occasion, distinguished from 

cause, 188. 
Occasional causes, the doctrine 

of, 64. 
Ontology, defined, 2 ; referred 

to, 173. 
Opinion, nature of, 155. 
Order, defined, 193. 



Pain, 225, 226, 233. 

Painting, referred to, 123, 124. 

Particular judgments, 156. 

Pascal, the French writer, re- 
ferred to, 111. 

Pathetic, the, emotions of, 267. 

Pathology, defined, 2. 

Pathos, 267. 

Pedagogics, defined, 3. 

Perception, acquired, 47 ; de- 
fined, 24 ; different senses of 
the word, 24 ; of space, 49 ; 
original, 47; proper, 25. 

Percepts, defined, 57; orga^^iza- 
tion of, 58. 

Personal equation, in perception, 
59. 

Personality, 197. 

Perez, Bernard, contemporary- 
French writer on the psychol- 
ogy of childhood, referred to, 
278. 

Pessimists, 283. 

Pestalozzi, J. H., referred to, 
65. 

Phantasy, defined, 83. 



Phenomena, — literally, appear- 
ances, plural of phenomenon, — 
145, 176. 

Phenomenalism, — the doctrine 
that nothing exists but phe- 
nomena, or appearances, with- 
out substance, — 145, 176. 

Philosophy, — literally, the love 
of wisdom, — distinguished from 
science, 1 ; the schools of, 173. 

Phrenology, — a pseudo-science 
which professes to localize 
mental faculties by excres- 
cences on the cranium, — 27. 

Physiognomy, — the science of 
interpreting character by facial 
expression, — 307. 

Physiology, defined, 2. 

Physiological Psychology, 3. 

Physiological time, 60. 

Picturesque, the, 263. 

Pity, 299. 

Plato, referred to, 122, 141, 142, 
264 

Play, 66, 248. 

Pleasure, 225, 226. 

Plot-interest, 267. 

Plotinus, 26, 157. 

PluraUty, defined, 179. 

Poetry, referred to, 123, 124, 266. 

Porphyry, referred to, 143. 

Porter, Noah, quoted or referred 
to, 21, 76, 321. 

Postulate, defined, 172. 

Predicate, defined, 154, 

Pre-established harmony, 64. 

Prejudice, 273. 

Pre-perception, 55. 

Presentation, in conception, 135. 

Presentative kncurledge, de- 
fined, 12 ; two kinds of, 15. 



INDEX. 



415 



Pride, emotion of, 257. 

Primary affirmations, 6. 

Primary qualities, 42. 

Problematic judgments, 155. 

Progress, relation of imagination 

' to, 127. 

Propensities, 306. 

Prophecy, 127. 

Psychical, — pertaining to the 
soul, — use of the word, 1. 

Psychology, comparative, 3 ; de- 
fined, 1 ; ethnological, 3 ; meth- 
od of, 4 ; relation of to educa- 
tion, 3; sciences related to, 2; 
source of facts in, 2 ; sphere of, 
2; use of the word, 1. 

Psycho-physics, nature of, 60; 
results of, 61. See Weber's Law. 

Pyrrho, referred to, 162. 

Pythagoras, referred to, 157. 

Qualities of matter, 42, 177. 

Quality, defined, 179; of judg- 
ments, 156. 

Quantity, defined, 178; distin- 
guished from quality, 343 ; 
kinds of, 178; of judgments, 
156. 

Radestock, Paul, contemporary 
German writer, quoted, 79. 

Raphael, the artist, referred to, 
265. 

Rapture, the emotion of, 255. 

Rationalism (in the philosophical 
sense), defined, 174. 

Realism (of concepts), defined, 
141; (in philosophy of being) 
dualistic, 42, 178; scientific, 
178. 



Reason, the, as explained by 
Spencer, 219 ; defined, 157; 
Greek name for, 138; pre-con- 
dition of rational speech, 335. 

Reasoning, assumptions of, 162; 
definition of, 134, 161; induct- 
ive, 162; instrument of, 170; 
limits of, 170 ; relation of to 
education, 168; validity of, 161. 

Redintegration, law of, 70. 

Reid, Thomas, quoted or referred 
to, 8, 26, 64, 145, 188, 371. 

Reflection, defined, 134. 

Reflective self-consciousness, 
20, 22. 

Reflex action, 313. 

Relation, defined, 180. 

Relationism, defined, 145 ; re- 
ferred to, 176. 

Relativity of knowledge, 181. 

Religious emotions, 269. 

Remorse, emotion of, 268. 

Repentance, emotion of, 268. 

Repetition, law of, 74. 

Representative knowledge, de- 
fined, 13, 68. 

Resemblance, defined, 180; law 
of, 72. 

Responsibility, emotion of, 268. 

Restlessness, 243. 

Revenge, 296. 

Reverence, 268. 

Reverie, 95, 129. 

Reymond, Emil Du-Bois, quoted, 
41. 

Ribot, Th., contemporary French 
psychologist and director of the 
"Revue Philosophique," quoted 
or referred to, 50, 61, 106, 108, 
246, 369. 

Richter, Jean Paul, quoted, 302. 



416 



INDEX. 



Ridiculous, the, emotion of, 261. 

Ritter, the German geographer, 
referred to. 111. 

Robertsouj George Croom, editor 
of " Mind," quoted, 28. 

Romanes, George J., quoted, 319. 

Roscellinus, referred to, 143. 

Rosenthal, I., contemporary Ger- 
man physiologist, quoted, 59, 
61. 

Ruskin, John, quoted, 116. 



Scaliger, Joseph J., called the 
Elder, referred to, 111. 

Schelling, German philosopher, 
referred to, 122. 

Schleiermacher, F. E. D., re- 
ferred to, 270. 

Scientific knowledge, character 
of, 148. 

Scott, Sir Walter, referred to, 56, 
107. 

Scotus Erigena, referred to, 143. 

Sculpture, referred to, 123, 124. 

Secondary qualities^ of matter, 
42. 

Self, permanence of, 105, 207. 
See also Soul. 

Self-complacency, 257. 

Self-confidence, 259. 

Self-consciousness, abnormal, 21 \ 
defined, 14; egoistic, 22; eth- 
ical, 21; hypochondriacal, 22; 
Hume on, 15; Mill on, 17; 
philosophical, 21 ; precocious, 
21 ; reflective, 20 ; relation of to 
education, 22; Spencer on, 18; 
spontaneous, 19. 

Self-indulgence, 283. 

Self-knowledge, capacity for, 7. 



Self-preservation, 282. 

Self-respect, 268. 

Sensation, association in, 237; 
definition of, 228 ; laws of, 236 ; 
localization of, 49; proper, 25; 
range of, 235; relation of to 
education, 238. 

Sensationalism, — in philosophy, 
the theory of knowledge that 
derives everything from sensa- 
tion,— 173. 

Senses, classification of, 32 ; com- 
pleteness of, 33; defined, 32; 
development of, 44; muscular 
sense, 32; organic, 32; special, 
33. See also each of the special 
senses. 

Sense-interpretation, 42, 44. 

Sense-organ, defined, 32. 

Sense-perception, defined, 24 ; 
development of, 44; example 
of, 25 ; illusions of, 51. 

Sensibility, defined, 221 ; de- 
scribed, 8 ; development of, 
304; difficulty of treating, 222. 

Sensori-motor action, 313. 

Sensory circles, 34, 35. 

Sentiments, defined and treated, 
250. 

Sexton-bee, instincts of the, 320, 
322. 

Sexual passion, 244. 

Shakespeare, quoted, 115, 117, 
124, 273. 

Shame, emotion of, 268. 

Shelley, referred to, 117. 

Sight, described, 37; knowledge 
obtained by, 40. 

Simonides, referred to, 113. 

Simple sentience, conditions of, 
231 ; treated, 228. 



INDEX. 



417 



Skepticism, philosophical, 163. 

Sleep, 248. 

Smell, described, 35; develop- 
ment of, 36; knowledge ob- 
tained by, 39. 

Smyth, Newman, contemporary 
American religious writer, 270. 

Sociability, 286. 

Socrates, referred to, 142. 

Solicitation, definition of, 389. 

Somnambulism, 332. 

Sophists, the, referred to, 148. 

Sorrow, emotion of, 256. 

Soul, — equivalent to conscious 
self, — immortality of, 372; re- 
lation of to body, 62 ; unity of, 
9, 171, 367; use of the word, 1. 

Space, defined, 201 ; how related 
to time, 210; objectivity of, 
204; real and ideal, 205; treat- 
ed, 200. 

Specific energy of the nerves, 
31. 

Spencer, Herbert, quoted or re- 
ferred to, 9, 18, 50, 64, 71, 143, 
166, 181, 183, 191, 201, 205, 
210, 218, 219, 225, 261, 262, 
278, 318, 364. 

Spirit, attributes of, 177; use of 
the word, 65. 

Spiritism,— to be distinguished 
from " Spiritualism," which last 
is a term often used to designate 
the opposite of "Materialism," 
— referred to, 30. 

Stephenson, George, English en- 
gineer, referred to, 121. 

Stewart, Dugald, referred to or 

quoted, 79, 100. 
Stoics, the, referred to, 157. 
Strong, Augustus H., contempo- 



rary American theological writ- 
er, referred to, 67. 

Sulyect, of a proposition, 154. 

Subjective, — pertaining to the 
conscious subject; used in con- 
trast to objective, pertaining to 
the object. ' 

Subjectivism, in philosophy, 144. 

Sublime, emotions of the, 265; 
the morally, 266. 

Substance,— literally, that which 
stands under the qualities at- 
tributed to a thing and consti- 
tutes its reality,— 175. 

Succession, memory of, 105. 

Suffocation, 242. 

Suggestion, 69, 71. 

Sully, James, referred to or quot- 
ed, 11, 52, 92, 102, 226, 298. 

Surprise, emotion of, 259. 

Suspicion, 298. 

Sympathy, emotion of, 260. 

Synthetic judgment, 154. 

System, nature of a, 168. 

Systems of philosophy, 174. 

Systematization, defined and ex- 
plained, 168. 

Taine, H. A., referred to, 104. 

Talent, 129. 

Tappan, Henry P., American 

writer on the Will, died in 1881, 

referred to, 364. 
Taste, described, 36; knowledge 

obtained by, 40. 
Teleological terms distinguished, 

191. 
Teleology, defined, 190. 
Temperature, sensation of, 34. 
Tennyson, Lord Alfred, quoted, 

214. 



418 



INDEX. 



Terror, emotion of, 259. 

Tertium quid, — third something, 
—64. 

Testimony, difficulty of obtain- 
ing, 57. 

Thirst, 242. 

Thought, defined, 134; laws of, 
134, 175; transference of at a 
distance, 30; ultimate in ex- 
planation, 197. See also Reas- 
oning. 

Threshold of consciousness, 
meaning of, 60. 

Tiedemann, Thierri, a German 
observer of infantile develop- 
ment, referred to, 45. 

Tiedemann, a German anatomist 
of small brain dimensions, re- 
ferred to, 217. 

Time, defined, 208; objectivity 
of, 209; real and ideal, 209; 
treated, 107. 

Touch, described, 33 ; knowledge 
obtained by, 39. 

Transcendentalism, in philoso- 
phy, 173. 

Transference of thought, at a 
distance, 30. 

Trichotomy, — or threefold divis- 
ion of the soul, 65. 

Trustj 298. 

Truth, defined, 82; embodied in 
a proposition, 153 ; harmony of 
all, 168. 

Tyndall, John, quoted, 40, 122, 
177. 



Ulrici, Hermann, quoted, 9. 
Unconscious cerebration, 92, 94, 



Understanding, as employed by 

Kant, 144. 
Universals, defined, 139. 
Universal judgments, 156, 
Uniformity of nature, 164. 
Unity, defined, 179 ; of the soul, 

9, 213, 304. 
Upham, Thomas C, American 

philosophical writer, died in 

1872, referred to, 364. 



Vanity, emotion, 257. 

Variety, in unity, 236 ; law of, 236. 

Velocity, of light, nerve-vibra- 
tion, and sound, 59. 

Verification, as subsidiary to in- 
duction, 164. 

Vernet, Horace, artist, referred 
to, 104. 

Vibration, as a cause of sensa- 
tion, 29. 

Vision of all things in God, 64. 

Visualization, 85. 

Volition, described, 7, 12 ; treated, 
356. 

Voluntary action, 339. 



Ward, James, contemporary Eng- 
lish psychologist, quoted, 201. 

Warner, Francis, contemporary 
English writer on expression, 
quoted, 257. 

Wayland, Francis, quoted, 284. 

Weariness, 243. 

Weber, E. H., referred to, 34; 
law of, 60. 

Webster, Daniel, referred to, 217. 

Whately, Archbishop, recent 
writer on logic, referred to, 170. 



INDEX. 



419 



Whedon, D. D., writer on the 
Will, died in 1885, referred to, 
364. 

Whipple, E. P., recent American 
writer, referred to, 361. 

Will, definition of, 309 ; described, 
8; development of, 366; in- 
heritance of, 370; in relation 
to desires, 289; study of psy- 
chological, 310; treated, 309. 

Wit, emotion of, 261. 

Wittich, von, contemporary Ger- 
man psycho-physicist, referred 
to, 59. 



Wonder, emotion of, 259. 
Wordsworth, quoted, 100, 115. 
Wundt, W., referred to or quoted, 
50, 51, 61, 368, 370. 



Young - Helmholtz theory of 

colors, 38. 
Young, Thomas, referred to, 38. 



Zanotti, F. M., referred to, 

77. 



r^i 



Ap'27 



7'/i^ 



1 






-(•■5' 



..:i!li-. 



•"■•■♦L.n- 




















Mi^ 


■,rmmm 


' ''•••!!:' '.M^^^T^M'i^iS^i 




.^^i'"' 'j'^#4^wNml3! 


".^'* -t-^BssM 


^M^^M 


-■"•••"• •>''*#™S 


fMWMfli^finr 


1 1 . ,s%|pj»r 


IS^SHflfflfl 


. ' : • si.'/ -i^qftWfSr 


^^^HfiflBfll 


:^,.:;':''r.:ffiP| 


^^^H 






HM 


mMm 


^S 


■■:'Mm^ 


^H 



